


Elementary Rituals

by gin_tonic



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: snape_potter, M/M, Severus/Harry Big Bang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-24 02:32:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 35,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/629322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gin_tonic/pseuds/gin_tonic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry has plans for the next weeks. Plans that involve Severus Snape and possibly a date or five. Unfortunately for him, the universe likes to throw stones in his path – and this one might just change the future of the whole wizarding world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Elementary Rituals

**Author's Note:**

> A gazillion thanks to the wonderful mods [](http://torino10154.insanejournal.com/profile)[**torino10154**](http://torino10154.insanejournal.com/) and [](http://accioslash.livejournal.com/profile)[**accioslash**](http://accioslash.livejournal.com/) for making this fest possible. Another gazillion thanks to [](http://abrae.insanejournal.com/profile)[**abrae**](http://abrae.insanejournal.com/) for helping me make sense of certain people's motivation and to [](http://angela_snape.insanejournal.com/profile)[**angela_snape**](http://angela_snape.insanejournal.com/) and [](http://badgerlady.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://badgerlady.livejournal.com/)**badgerlady** for beta-reading this beast. You are all made of awesome!  <3  
> 

Harry dried his hands on his lime-green robes and took a deep breath before entering Snape's potions shop. Going in there usually made him nervous, even though he'd been coming there for years now. But today was special. Today his visit to the shop was even more nerve-wracking than usual. Today, Harry would ask Snape out.

He'd told no one that his reason for volunteering to go and get the new stock of potions for his department in St. Mungo's was that he had the hots for Snape. Not even Hermione knew – and that was really saying something about Harry's stealth. The fact that no one questioned him, because no one had the desire to exchange places with him, also helped a great deal, since Harry didn't _have_ to go pick up the potions anymore. After all, he wasn't a lowly apprentice anymore who was sent to Snape as a punishment, but rather a full-fledged Healer, certified and admired (by one mediwizard).

"Hey," he said as he moved towards the counter. Snape didn't look up nor did he acknowledge Harry's presence until he was done with the customer he was serving. It was only then that he looked Harry up and down, raised an eyebrow and said: "You again."

"I brought pastries this time." Harry held up a bag with fine baked goods and tried for a grin. Once he had brought tea for Snape, only to have it thrown back at him (it had missed him by an inch, thanks to his still very good seeker-reflexes). It had been over-brewed, Snape had snarled. Harry didn't make the mistake twice and let Snape do the brewing.

"I should have known you'd be the one who would pick up the delivery." Snape spelled the front door shut.

"I'm the _only one_ who picks up the delivery," Harry said as he followed Snape into the back room where a table and two chairs were set up in a small nook.

"Yes, why is that?" Snape glanced at him just before he started on the tea and Harry had to keep himself from nervous swallowing.

"Guess no one else likes coming here. Your reputation for being a mean bastard probably doesn't help, either," he was hasty to add.

"I trust you do your fair share to keep up that reputation."

"Of course."

"Good." Another one of Snape's patented smirks, then he sat down at the table and opened the bag to inspect the pastries Harry had brought. He'd been careful to select Snape's favourites – months of careful research had gone into this. Not that any of this was even remotely planned, though. The realisation that he wanted Snape was a fairly recent one. Two months, tops. Or maybe four. But he'd been trying to find out as much as he could about Snape even before he had finally clued in on his feelings. The topic of Snape had always been an obsession for him, starting as early as his first year at Hogwarts – only for different reasons back then. After meeting Snape for the first time here in the shop he'd wanted to know _everything_. So he'd come back. The other apprentices and Healers had gladly given him the task of frequenting the shop, so that was all fine and dandy.

"What do you need today?"

Snape's question jerked Harry out of his musings and he gave Snape a rueful smile. "Special order from the Spell Damage ward and some of the usual stuff."

"You do know that you could've owled me that list, don't you?" Snape asked and took the letter with the special order as well as the list of regular potions from Harry's hands.

"Yes, but St. Mungo's likes to get everything straightaway," Harry said and added: "Besides, I like coming here."

"You like the stroll it allows you and the break for tea."

"That too, but those are definitely just additional perks." Harry's heart picked up speed, beating hard against his chest as his palms started to get sweaty. He couldn't remember ever being this nervous; even his Healer finals had been easy compared to this.

"Had I known you liked to be around chopped Flobberworms this much, I would have given you more detentions in school."

"You gave me plenty, anyway. And Flobberworms are disgusting."

The back of Harry's head tingled as he got ready to finally ask Snape out. He'd laid out three perfect plans in his head, just to be prepared, and every single one of them just silently slipped away as he swallowed. He managed a croak as the words tangled up on his tongue and Snape looked at him strangely.

"What was that?"

Harry cleared his throat. Say something. "Do you have any plans for dinner tonight?"

"I plan on eating it," Snape said and turned back towards the potion shelf. He selected three bottles of Skele-Gro and put them, with an additional cushioning charm, into the bag.

"I was just wondering… I mean, I heard about this new restaurant and I wanted to try it…" Actually, that was a lie. But Snape didn't often eat out, so…

"Which restaurant?"

Harry grappled for an answer and named the first restaurant that came to his mind: "Il Caminetto."

"That's a family restaurant that's been in existence for over three years." Snape put the bag with the potions on the counter. The flasks, though cushioned, rattled against each other with the slight thunk of the bag and Harry bit his lip. Once he paid, his time was up and his chance gone. Now or never.

"I… I just wanted to take you out to dinner!" he blurted. He had expected a lot of reactions to his proposition (had hoped for a _yes_ , actually), but he hadn't expected Snape to pull out his wand and almost simultaneously spell the shop-door closed and zap him. "Ow!" Harry rubbed his stinging arm. "What was that for? I just asked –"

"Well, it's not Imperius." Snape frowned at him.

"What? What are you talking about?" Harry looked at Snape like he'd gotten even madder than before. "Of course I'm not Imperiused! Besides, all Imperius does now is make me sneeze."

"A potion, perhaps?" Snape mumbled and raised his wand.

"Hey, stop!" Harry was surprised that Snape even did, even though he looked at Harry like Harry had seen him look at the toads he tried out his potions on. "What's gotten into you?"

"No, what's gotten into _you_ , Potter?"

"What are you talking about? Nothing's gotten into me!"

"Yet you asked me out."

Harry blinked. "Yes." He wet his lips. Suddenly his throat felt dry. "I did." Snape said nothing. "So?"

"So something has to be wrong with you. Because why else would you ask _me_ of all people out? Especially out of the blue."

"It just took me a long time, is all."

"It took you a long time."

"Yes. I just… I didn't know how to ask."

"Is this a prank? Because if it is, I will hex your arse into the next millennium."

"It's not!" Harry's voice turned into a plea. He'd known it would be hard to ask Snape out, but he had not expected it would be this complicated. "I'm sorry, I know I did this all wrong, but I really would like to go out with you." Snape didn't look convinced, not in the least. Instead, he looked at Harry like he used to back when he still pretended to hate Harry. "Or I could bring dinner. Around seven, maybe?" Harry hastened to add.

"Potter, whatever you are trying to achieve: cut it out."

"What are you talking about?"

Snape sighed. "You trying to flirt with me. Wanting to go out with me. You trying to alleviate whatever misguided feelings of guilt you have."

"What?!" Harry shook his head as he got up, leaned on the table and looked at Snape with disbelief. How could Snape still think like that? After all the time Harry had come to his shop and they had talked. "I'm not doing this because of guilt, but because I want to."

"Why would you want to if not because of your guilt over what happened in the war or because of your mother?"

"Why are you bringing her into this now?" Harry started pacing. Sometimes – though lately more often than not – Harry wondered if Snape was completely bonkers. "For the record, I _did_ feel guilty about what happened between us before and during the war. The operative word here is _did_ , as in: the past."

Snape scoffed. "So you're saying that you actually are interested in me out of the goodness of your heart."

"No!" Slowly but surely Harry felt the urge to punch something. "I'm interested in you because I think you're smart and funny and sexy and because I can't take my eyes off your hands for that matter."

"You make me sound like some bint."

"I make you sound like someone I'm _attracted to_."

Snape cleared his throat, glanced at Harry, then looked away again. "You're attracted to me. Because of my hands."

"Yes." Harry was this close to throwing himself on the floor and having a hissy fit. Trust Snape to make things difficult. "Amongst other things."

For a moment there Harry thought Snape would say yes, but then Snape's mouth only formed a thin line and his eyes looked hard. Resolved. "The answer is still no."

 

******

 

Work at St. Mungo's became a challenge for next couple of days. Yet it wasn't the thought of Snape that was driving Harry to distraction. Harry frowned at the chart in his hand. Something didn't ring quite right about what he'd written down here. Harry rubbed his hands over his face, hoping it was just tiredness that was making him a little confused, because if there really was something wrong with the chart he'd have to get through a mountain of red tape to figure it out _and_ to correct it. And here he'd been thinking that he'd just have to dictate one quick report to his quill and be done for the week.

He took another look at what he had written hours before. His writing was atrocious as ever, maybe a little more hurried than usual as several injured people – his patient plus four others who had been injured in a broom accident – had arrived at the same time. The physical assessment seemed normal apart from the description of the wound, of course. Wounds were never normal, especially not in the Wizarding World. But even wounds here followed certain patterns. This particular patient had burns on his torso, which he claimed he got while cooking lunch. Harry pursed his lips. It did sound plausible at the time and that was usually enough for Harry. After all, he was a Healer, not an investigator, and would only call the authorities when he thought something really was wrong. But now that he had the time to reflect on the injury and the patient, a cooking incident did seem a little weird. Sure, some people still cooked with fire, especially if they wanted nothing to do with the Muggle world, but Harry had seen many fire-injuries, some even on his own body, and his patient's injuries had not had the garden-variety whoops-my-porridge-exploded look. Harry tried to recall what the burn had looked like. It had been treated easily enough with the right combination of potions and spells. But there had been faint stains – similar to those from a potions incident. And it had appeared as if someone had already tried to clean up the injured guy and maybe even cast a very amateurish healing spell.

Why had the bloke not been upfront about it? Sure, potion incidents were embarrassing – one only had to think back to how it had been like at school – but surely having an accident while cooking was worse! And something else had been off, but Harry couldn't put his finger on it.

Harry shook his head and moved to settle down at a desk to really study the chart. He'd get to the bottom of whatever was bugging him about the chart and wouldn't rest before –

"Healer Potter, emergency on the Dai Llewellyn ward. Please report to Dai Llewellyn immediately."

"Damn it." Harry threw down the chart and ran towards the stairs. Before he'd even reached his new patient, he'd all but forgotten about his problem patient.

 

******

 

Still unwilling to give up on Snape, Harry tried a tea-date the next week. Maybe they weren't ready for the evening variety of a date yet. So he'd gone to Snape's shop on a fairly cloudy Thursday afternoon after his morning shift was over and he was free for the week, had brought scones and cream and strawberries and high hopes for tea. Seeing the pastries, Snape had obliged with the latter and they'd taken their usual seats.

Harry remembered what it had felt like to see Snape for the first time since the war. His supervisors had sent him to the potions shop to fetch some valuable custom-made orders as punishment for messing up a healing spell. Harry had been still reeling over the botched attempt to help – by now he couldn't remember if he'd just been exhausted from long shifts or if he'd been hung-over – but he still remembered that he hadn't expected to see Snape inside the shop. He should've seen it coming, though. After all, the custom-made potions St. Mungo's always ordered required a high level of skill, and nobody liked to go there to fetch the potions, no matter that one had the opportunity to grab a cup of tea while they were out.

Harry had stormed into Snape's shop, not suspecting a thing, and had smacked right into Snape's surprisingly firm chest. Slightly confounded, Harry had looked up and found himself staring at Snape. And that feeling… that _feeling_ that he still remembered, that feeling of surprise and, yes, he had to admit it, fear, had ultimately brought him to where he was today.

He had known that Snape was alive, of course. After all, he'd gone back to the Shrieking Shack after the fighting had ended and had levitated Snape to the Great Hall. He'd believed Snape was dead until Madam Pomfrey had laid her eyes on him, had shrieked in surprise and set to work. Harry had felt utterly helpless back then – he hadn't even known that hope wasn't lost for Snape and then, once he knew, he couldn't do anything to help. That, too, had brought him to where he was today. After the war, he'd wanted to help people, not arrest or kill them. He wanted to stop feeling so helpless. But Snape? He hadn't seen Snape since that day in the Great Hall. Snape had gone away, Harry had been told. Not that he'd bothered to check, especially not after sending off that bloody awful thank-you letter to the man. Harry had been busy with his own life, whatever that meant, and had blundered along his own very winding path.

And then there had been Snape in the potions shop, snarky and bitter and mean and stubborn as hell – just like he'd always been, really. Harry had been weirdly glad, because something hadn't changed, not after all these years. Not after Ron and Hermione had started getting really serious with each other, not since he and Ginny had their joint coming-out. Snape was his own weird, glaring constant.

"You are a strange man," Harry said into the silence as he put clotted cream on his scone, and Snape gave him a look.

"Says the man who met Albus Dumbledore in a limbo place that looked like Platform 9 3/4."

Harry groaned. "I shouldn't have told you that."

Snape smirked and Harry smiled because this was what a date was supposed to feel like. This was them again, doing something familiar with a new twist. Feeling particularly daring today, Harry first reached for the tea, poured more in their cups, and then casually let his hand rest near Snape's. All coincidental, of course. His finger twitched and he felt elation if not triumph as he touched the back of Snape's hand. Until Snape pulled his hand away, that was.

"Listen, Potter. I want you to stop what it is you're doing. I know you fancy yourself attracted to me –"

"I don't fancy myself anything," Harry said hotly. "I really am –"

"Let me finish. The idea of you and me is one that is short-lived – a flight of fancy for you and subject of ridicule and anger for the general public."

"When have you ever cared about other people's opinion of you?"

"I don't. Privately. As a shopkeeper, however, I do, and as someone who doesn't like to be accosted on the streets, as well."

"But –" He had seen Snape look at him. He'd felt that there was this tension between them. A tension that spoke of possibilities and of passion and lust. "I thought you felt it, too."

"Just because I feel something doesn't mean I have to act on that feeling. I'm not a slave to instinct and irrationality, Potter. Lust is just another thing a grown man has to learn to conquer. And I did."

Harry didn't understand. Why would Snape reject him when he clearly was attracted to Harry? They got along well, could carry conversations for a long time and maybe Snape even liked Harry's company as much as Harry liked Snape's. Maybe if he could make Snape see…

"Just stop, Potter."

Harry swallowed. He'd expected a lot, but not this. Not being rebuffed when he had thought that his feelings were returned. He thought about saying something to make Snape reconsider, to make him see it his way, but not only couldn't he think of something, but he also knew that he couldn't _make_ Snape do anything. You couldn't force someone to love you back. And if Snape said no, then it would be exactly what he had to respect. So he swallowed again, thickly, against the lump in his throat, and nodded. It wasn't going to be easy.

 

******

 

He left Snape alone after their disastrous date. Real life took over like a whirlwind: shifts that extended to 36 hours, mutilated bodies coming in from a house-fire because another idiot had thought they could have a pet dragon, and there were endless rows of patients and injuries and maladies. Some made him frown, some made him bang his head against a wall because people were stupid or life was unfair. Or both. And in between the whole mess there was that nagging feeling that something was off, that there was something that he wasn't seeing but really should pay attention to. But between work and falling into bed every night with exhaustion killing even the inkling of a nightmare, Harry couldn't figure out what it was.

When there was another batch of potions to be picked up from Snape's shop, Harry jumped at the chance, glad to be able to get out and get a breather for once. That he could see Snape was usually a bonus, but he still didn't know how to behave around the man. The urge to flirt was lurking beneath Harry's tired exterior, but he didn't want to make things weirder than they already were. If only he could make Snape see that being with him was not wrong and not a bad idea. Snape couldn't be completely averse to the idea, or he would've hexed Harry long before now. But he'd agreed to stop. Torn, Harry couldn't find a solution for his problem. But he knew that he just couldn't give up, not like that. Maybe if things were different... Harry shook his head. For now he had to keep his promise. He'd see about the rest later. Gripping today's pastry offering a little tighter, Harry walked into Snape's shop.

 

******

 

Snape led him to the small backroom again, where a pot of tea and two cups were already waiting.

"You knew I was coming?" Harry asked in surprise. He'd never known Snape to be any good in Divination. Or that he even believed in the stuff.

"It's Wednesday. You come here every two weeks, always on a Wednesday, because that's when the dolts at your hospital notice they are out of potions."

Harry blinked. It was Wednesday? He hadn't noticed. He had known it wasn't the weekend... well. More or less. But Wednesday? He rubbed a hand over his tired eyes and shrugged. Maybe he should convince St. Mungo's administrators to cut back on his hours. Or he should start carrying a pocket calendar. Probably the better alternative, seeing as he couldn't imagine that asking for fewer hours would go over too well. "I hadn't noticed," he finally muttered as he sat down.

"Of course you didn't." Snape poured the tea and Harry took the cup gladly, warming his hands on the porcelain. He breathed in the welcome smell of strong tea – Snape never did anything mildly – and hoped it would keep him awake for the rest of the day.

When he heard the rustling of the pastry bag, Harry opened his eyes again – he hadn't even consciously closed them – and couldn't help but be thankful for how easy this felt. Sitting here with Snape. There was still this coil of tension in him that would most likely not go away for a while, one that wanted to make him lunge over the table and kiss Snape senseless. But since Snape would most likely hex him for that, because Harry had said he'd stop and because he was so bloody tired, he didn't. Instead he sipped on his tea that was still too hot to drink and wasn't sweet enough, because he had forgotten to add his usual spoon of sugar. Harry smiled as Snape pushed the bowl of sugar towards him. Wordless, of course. He was just reaching for it, when it came.

 

It felt like an earthquake, only that the ground wasn't shaking. It stole Harry's breath, made him gasp and stagger and when he looked up once it was over he saw that Severus hadn't fared much better. Unable to speak, Harry struggled for breath as he noticed that something was off. Nothing felt right anymore. It was as if the world was permanently tilted, as if sunlight was shining directly in his eyes, bright and brutal. Yet there was nothing wrong with his vision.

He felt Snape's hand on his arm and grabbed for his shoulder, holding on in hope it would ground him. Then he finally managed to get a word out: "What…?"

Snape slowly, almost gingerly shook his head. "I don't know."

"You, too?" Harry asked and Snape nodded. "Something is really wrong. Something big." He expected Snape to ridicule him and tell him that he should stop being portentous, but Snape didn't. Instead, he displayed a concerned look that completely threw Harry.

 

******

 

"I imagine this is what being on drugs feels like," Harry mumbled and rubbed his hand over his eyes. He felt like he didn't belong in his own skin, like everything was too tight and narrow, like he had to break out.

"No, it's different," Snape said and finally managed to get up. He frowned at his wand as if just looking at it would somehow tell him what was going on here. He turned it, held it up to the light and sighed.

It was only then that Harry's brain caught up with Snape's words. "What do you mean by that? Have you done drugs?" He tried imagining Snape as a pot-smoking teenager, but completely failed. Somehow that image didn't quite fit.

"Potter, I was a Death Eater and I'm a potions master."

"So?" Harry rubbed his forehead this time. The weird feeling turned quickly into a raging headache and talking with Snape about drugs didn't exactly help. "Wait, did Voldemort make you take drugs?"

"Voldemort was far too concerned with his own resurrection and the surge to power to do drugs." Snape shook his head. Afterwards, he quickly sat down again and added, "He would have done them, had they increased his powers. But he didn't. Instead, it was Rodolphus Lestrange who had a penchant for drugs. He made me manufacture them for him."

"So you breathed in the fumes," Harry deduced and felt a little comforted at the thought. It was better than imagining Snape lying somewhere drugged out of his mind. Harry knew that drugs were not a habit you kicked easily.

"Naturally. I breathed in many fumes over the years – despite taking precautions; that's the plight of a potions master. But Lestrange made everyone around him participate in his little… soirees." Snape shrugged. "I took as little as possible."

Harry looked at Snape with wide eyes and wondered if this changed anything. He'd always stayed away from drugs and never done anything more than get royally pissed. But Snape… well, he'd been a spy and Harry knew that. He'd known all along that Snape had done things neither he nor Harry would probably want to specify. And that was in the past now. So he dropped the topic and asked instead, "Did your wand tell you anything?"

"I hoped to find any disturbances in the surface of the wood."

"But you found nothing." Harry bit his lip. "What does that mean?"

"Had I found something on the wood it would have been evidence that we might have been cursed."

"Selectively, you mean?" Harry shook his head. "No, this feels bigger."

"Indeed it does. But I was hoping…" Snape trailed off. They both knew that hoping rarely changed anything. And now that the suspicion that they were dealing with something else entirely got more substantiated, Harry knew they couldn't sit around and wait any longer.

"I'll Floo-call Hermione and Ron, see if they are okay." He had a feeling that they, too, were feeling something. What would he do then? What could be done? Harry grabbed a handful of Floo Powder, threw it in the flames and shouted, "Granger-Weasley residence!" Then there was a green flash and Harry flew through the air.

 

******

 

When Harry came to, he was lying on Snape's surprisingly comfortable couch and his head felt like Voldemort had come back to take a stroll in it. "Bloody hell," Harry said and groaned as the slightest movement let a wave of nausea and pain roll over him.

"You can count yourself lucky that your head is as hard as it is." Snape's face appeared in Harry's admittedly blurry field of vision. Harry did note a frown of concern on his face, though. Or possibly it was an angry frown. Harry couldn't be quite sure.

"What happened?"

"The Floo exploded and threw you against the wall. You nearly split your head open."

"Feels like I did." Harry groaned again. "Can you give me a healing draught, please?"

"I'm afraid not."

"What?" Before Harry could sit up, Snape's firm hands landed on his shoulders and held Harry in place. "Why?"

"It seems something is wrong with our magic. I don't dare using anything magical at the moment before making sure everything is in order."

"Our magic? So it's not just the Floo or me?"

Snape shook his head. By now Harry could discern the look on Snape's face – it really was worry. And not only for Harry, because Harry had seen that look before and it usually held a lot more annoyance. But this? This was pure, unadulterated worry. Harry had never seen Snape like this.

"I cast an extinguishing spell immediately after the Floo threw you across the room, but instead of extinguishing the flames I made the whole fireplace vanish." Snape sat down on the coffee table. "After that I thought it best not to try anything else."

"But potions aren't actively using magic, right? I mean, you created them with your magic, but when you made them your magic was alright."

"It's too risky. I fear our magical powers are not necessarily only amplified – if at all. I think they rather are completely unpredictable."

Harry sighed. "You don't have any Muggle painkillers, by chance?" Snape just made a face. "Great. Thought so."

"But I can change your ice-pack," Snape said.

 

******

 

Harry checked the back of his head with the help of two mirrors that Snape held up. Slowly he felt along his scalp, wincing here and there. It was a miracle alone that he had only bled a little, but he felt like he had a concussion.

"Really, Potter, I could have diagnosed you with that."

"Maybe. But between the two of us, I'm the Healer and I get to do the diagnosing." Harry saw Snape roll his eyes.

"And what would you tell a patient, had he a concussion, Healer Potter?"

Harry sighed. "I'd give him a healing draught and tell him to take it easy. But," Harry pushed himself off of the chair – then held onto the table until the world stopped spinning – and resolutely crossed his arms in front of his chest. "We're not going to take it easy. We need to get to Ron and Hermione."

Snape didn't disagree, but threw a couple of flasks and utensils into a satchel, took Harry's arm and started pulling him towards the door. Nothing had prepared them for what they saw on Diagon Alley. A building was on fire and red-robed Aurors ran around with a look of panic in their eyes that was mirrored in everyone else's. A scream from above made Harry look up just in time to see a witch come crashing down on the ground from out of nowhere.

"Apparition," Snape snarled and threw the door closed.

"We've got to help!" Harry said and made for the door again. Snape pulled him back roughly, marched him towards the back door.

"We won't be of any use, just like everyone else out there, Potter. We don't have our magic! Best everyone can do is stay out of the way of the mob and masses."

"What are we going to do?" Harry looked back at the front door, knowing full well that Snape was right. When he turned, he saw that the back door opened to a Muggle street this time. It was silent, almost eerily so, especially when compared to the chaos on Diagon Alley. How long would it take until the situation would spread to streets like these?

"We're going to hope for the best."

Harry swallowed and held back a nod that would only have made his headache worse. "Ron and Hermione live 60 miles away," Harry said. "We need a car."

"And we will have one." Snape marched to a black cab, pulled a hammer out of his satchel and smashed a window without even batting an eye. Harry waited for an alarm to make people come running, but the car stayed silent. "What are you waiting for?"

Harry looked around and quickly got into the cab. Before Harry could say anything, Snape had taken a flat-head screwdriver from his satchel and pounded it into the ignition. He turned it and the car's engine started.

"You always carry a whole set of tools around?" he asked shakily.

"Without being able to use our magic, I thought they would come in handy." He put it in gear and sped off with screeching tires.

 

******

 

Ron was in a near frenzy when Harry and Snape arrived. Before Snape had stopped the car he was running towards them – hair and clashing red robes a mess. Harry got out on unsteady feet.

"What the fuck, Harry?! What the fuck!?" Ron screamed and grabbed Harry by his shoulders. That Ron didn't use his customary curse 'Bloody hell' was a sure sign that something was really wrong. "I'm so glad you're alright."

"What about Hermione?"

"Inside and worried, but okay." Ron took a deep breath. "What's going on?" Harry's answer was a mixture between a shake of his head and a shrug. As they walked towards the house, Ron's eyes shifted towards Snape, but he said nothing.

"Did you try to cast anything?"

Ron closed the front door behind them and motioned for them to step into the living room. "I dropped a plate when that earthquake thing happened. Tried to cast a _Reparo_ and instead of fixing the damn thing, it turned to dust."

Harry waved at Hermione, who barrelled towards him and engulfed him in a hug that nearly sent him to his knees.

"You look terrible!"

"Concussion. I tried to Floo you –"

"And he was thrown across the room for his idiocy," Snape finished and crossed his arms in front of his chest. He did give Hermione a nod in greeting, though.

Hermione bit her lip. "You didn't take any potions, did you?" She looked at Snape as she asked this. "Of course not. Do you want some Muggle painkillers? I always keep them handy in case _someone_ forgets to replenish our stock."

"Please."

Hermione left for the kitchen; Harry could hear her rummage through drawers before she returned with a couple of white pills and a glass of water. She watched him take the painkillers like a hawk watches its hatchlings. "Good. Now: what, in God's name, is going on?"

"I just came in from the Ministry half an hour before all of this started and everything was fine then," Ron added. Harry vaguely remembered that Ron usually took the early shifts at the Auror department, because he could spend more time with Hermione and sometimes help out in George's shop in the evenings that way. The thought was overshadowed, though, by the knowledge that even the Ministry and its Aurors apparently had no idea what was happening. It didn't bode well.

 

******

 

There had been no news from the Ministry and the Wireless was dead, too. And an hour later they had reached no conclusion but that magic somehow had changed and had turned wild. This however, left more questions open than it answered.

Hermione shook her head as she put down the pot of tea. "Magic just cannot be changed like this. For everything and everyone to be affected –"

"You don't know if it's everyone," Snape interrupted her and took one of the biscuits from the box Hermione had just put next to the tea.

"You told us about what you saw in Diagon Alley," Hermione said and finally sat down. Not that she could really keep still; Harry had never seen her bustle with so much suppressed energy. "And since it's not restricted to that area – after all we have the same problems – we can safely assume that everyone is affected," Hermione added. "And this, in turn, means that the very foundations of magic must have been changed."

"The foundations?!" Harry's stomach turned and squeezed. "How can they just change?" He'd known this thing – whatever it was – was big, but this big? He hadn't expected that. Though, truth be told, he hadn't known what to make of the situation anyway.

Hermione poured tea into her cup and added a splash of milk. Harry noticed that her hands were shaking, but didn't say anything. "A ritual. It must have been some kind of ritual."

"You would have to prepare for that, though." It was the first that Ron had really spoken since their frantic welcome. He turned and made a move for his wand, then just stopped himself in time and got up instead, went over to their davenport and returned with parchment, ink and quill. "A ritual is a tricky thing. You need just the right ingredients – often you have to perform other little rituals beforehand or you have to have potions ready. All of that needs careful planning and preparation, probably for months, if not years. And a ritual to turn magic wild again? That's not something you can do accidentally."

_Wild magic_. What did that mean? He asked Ron, but it was Snape who answered: "I think what Mr Weasley is referring to it uncontrollable magic. We use that term nowadays to describe magic that is based on strong emotions as well as on magical bursts in children. What we are experiencing now is similar to that magic, but it is not sudden or brief and it is not caused by strong emotions, as it seems to be permanent. I would therefore say that we are facing not wild, but ancient magic."

Hermione's eyes took on a strange glow at that. It reminded Harry of study sessions in the Gryffindor common room, in front of the fireplace, when her eyes had glowed like embers if she stumbled across particularly strange and challenging information that reminded her of a problem she had already solved. "Ancient magic! But that has been bound and brought under control a thousand years ago!"

Snape nodded slowly. "Yes, but seems like it has been unleashed."

Ron leaned back in his chair, but looked anything but relaxed. "Something like that sounds complex. I mean, rituals in general are nothing that could be classified as cavalier. But something like this? You'd see signs. Someone must have."

"Signs?" Harry asked. "What kind of signs?"

Ron shrugged. "Dunno. I mean, it depends on what kind of stuff you would need to have or do for the ritual. Maybe you'd see an increase of magical phenomena, like the fog you see when Dementors assemble somewhere for breeding. Or you'd hear about kidnappings in the papers. Deaths, injuries. Increase of weird stuff in general."

Harry frowned. Suddenly, he had to think about the weird injuries he had treated lately. Most magical injuries were weird in one way or another – like people giving themselves feathers or vanishing bones in a limb. He remembered the latter pretty well, actually. But lately there had been these cases… He told the others as much and, before they even had the chance to comment, Harry grabbed a sheet of parchment, Summoned another quill and started writing down as much about these cases as he could remember.

"I, too, have noticed strange occurrences lately. Unusual orders for potions and ingredients."

Harry looked at Snape with surprise. "You're monitoring your sales? I mean, not only for stock keeping?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "Naturally, Potter. I have seen too many madmen in my lifetime to not do that. If someone is going to brew something nefarious, I will surely know. And most likely inform the authorities."

"You mean if they buy all the ingredients at your shop and if you make out the recipe they want to use through these ingredients."

"Precisely."

"Have you ever caught someone like that?"

"Not so far, no," Snape sniffed. "But I find it best to be prepared."

 

******

 

Harry had never really been concerned with magical theory. He'd studied some, because it had been required during his studies to become a Healer, but his understanding of the topic was barely more than the average wizard knew. He had some extra knowledge of blood magic and blood protection, but that didn't help him when it came down to this. Ancient Magic. Wild Magic.

The only times that he had consciously heard of wild magic was when it was discussed in relation to wizard children. Magic manifesting by making them bounce like Neville had or sort of Apparate like Harry when he had been trying to get away from Dudley and his cronies. Somewhere in the back of his mind, stored into some box in his brain, he had known that magic had once been wild. That it had been tamed aeons ago. But he hadn't concerned himself with that, because it hadn't been important to him. It had been something for the books, for people who studied that sort of stuff.

Now that he thought about it, he realised that ancient magic was far more common than he had realised. Not in the way that it was displayed now, but rather in a way that some rituals, some principles of magic still relied on the age-old ways they had been set in. Like blood magic. It hadn't required a spell for his mother to give him blood protection. All that had been needed was her love for him, her willingness to die to protect him. And then he had been 'safe' with those that were of his blood. A funny principle that, but one that led back to ancient magic. To produce magic without wands and spells that needed to be formulated out loud, that needed the precise wording instead of just intent.

And still, Harry wasn't quite sure if that was how this ancient magic worked. Because he _had_ intended to fire-call Ron and Hermione. Yet the magic within the Floo had thrown him across the room. It had not only made magic susceptible to the intents behind magic, but rather had made it completely volatile and – well – wild.

 

******

 

"How are we supposed to stop it?" Harry finally asked as the need to get down to the obvious arose. His head was still killing him – the painkillers were wearing off. He could barely concentrate – hell, he wasn't even sure if there was resonating determination or despair in his voice. He longed for a bed or at least a pillow, darkness and silence. And for his magic to calm his itching fingers.

"Why do _we_ have to stop it? Why not leave it for the pros, just this once." Ron glanced at Hermione, at the ring on her finger. "The Unspeakables are probably already working on a solution. Besides, the Ministry hasn't called for me yet – I can't even get to them. Let the experts figure out what to do and then let them fix it."

Harry looked at Snape, saw his brows furrow as if he was going to say something – and of course he would – and understood Ron perfectly. He'd give everything not to endanger Ron, Hermione or Snape, especially after he had come so close to losing all of them before. Especially Snape; Harry still had nightmares of seeing him in the shack, slowly bleeding to death. But sitting this one out just wasn't an option. And he said as much. "Who else is going to do it, Ron? Do you really want to sit back and wait for someone to help? We cannot tell for sure if the Ministry will manage to do something this time. But we _know_ something is wrong and we have to do something about it. Especially because we can. Because we're able to."

Ron shook his head. "We don't even know where to start."

"The ritual. Harry's patients and Professor Snape's ingredients. And whatever we can find out about ancient magic. We'll start there," Hermione said.

 

******

 

After some discussion, they decided Ron should try to contact the Ministry to see what was going on and whether or not they had an inkling of what had caused the ancient magic to surge. The Floo was completely out of the question, Harry reminded them, as were sending a corporeal Patronus or even Apparition. Sending a letter via owl was slow, but as Pig happily came when Ron called him, it seemed the best option.

Snape and Hermione vanished into the kitchen to throw together a quick supper while Ron took care of the letter business and Harry checked up on his injury in the bathroom. Awkwardly holding up a mirror with one hand while parting his hair over his wound with the other, Harry thought a healthy dose of dittany or even a couple of stitches (usually frowned upon in the wizarding world, but occasionally bloody helpful) would have been a good idea.

"Too late," he muttered at the image in the mirror and sent a heartfelt 'Fuck you!' to the day.

 

******

 

It was after dinner when someone tried to fire-call. A blazing fire suddenly roared in the fireplace that had been completely cold just seconds before and screaming could be heard for a moment or two before both fire and sound vanished. Harry's heart was racing as if he'd just pulled off a very close Wronski Feint as he stared at the fireplace and felt queasy. Things didn't look good for the Ministry.

"Bloody hell," Ron breathed. He'd lost all colour in his face. "I hope Dad is all right."

Harry felt his stomach plummet. He hadn't even thought of the Weasleys – not really, at least. He'd thought of Snape and Ron and Hermione, of course, but not about the rest. Never had to before. Sure, they had been in danger during Voldemort's surge for power, but they had also been able to take care of themselves. But that had been when they had known the threat – dangerous, yes, sometimes unpredictable, of course. But with Voldemort they had always been able to expect the basics – death to his enemies, torture, and war. This ancient magic, however? It was unpredictable to the extent that even something that came naturally – a fire-call, casting Lumos, spelling the sink to do the dishes – could become a death trap. What if Molly tried calling Arthur? What if George tried to Apparate to Ginny's loft? And what about their friends? After all, Harry's Floo accident could have killed him – or maybe administering first aid with some potions would have. Everyone could easily make the same mistake. And here they were sitting, waiting and not doing anything and –

"Breathe, Potter." Snape just stood there, next to him, his warmth radiating over to Harry. "They survived the war, they will survive this."

"But –" It was Hermione, who got there first. They were her family, too.

"Not buts, Ms Granger. They are smart enough to realise what we have concluded. Owl them, if you must. Arrange meetings, gather the forces. Check up on them. They will be alright."

"You don't know that," Harry said.

Snape shrugged. "No, I don't."

 

******

 

That night Harry and Snape set up camp in Ron and Hermione's living room. Harry could barely even sit anymore, he was so tired. His aches only contributed to the feeling and a ride in their stolen cab was out of the question. Hermione gave them blankets and pillows and Harry opted for the floor, leaving the sofa to Snape.

"I wish I could go to St. Mungo's," Harry said suddenly and earned himself a questioning look from Snape. He concentrated on fluffing up the pillow and straightening the blanket. "See my patients, you know? Besides, in times like these I don't doubt they could need all hands on deck."

"You couldn't treat your patients, Potter."

"Not the usual way, no." It pained Harry to admit it. Years of studying and his whole apprenticeship down the drain with just one ritual. He could diagnose, maybe, though even that got more complicated without the usual means of magic. But heal someone? Even if Healers would be able to use the potions, they would be used up soon – even under normal circumstances Healers and mediwitches and -wizards found themselves low in stock – and after that they would be practically helpless. "But I know some Muggle techniques."

"They won't help much."

"I could help those with flesh wounds. Calm people. I could –" A hand on his arm stopped him. Harry looked up and found Snape standing close. He swallowed, then nodded. Snape was right. Of course there were other Healers who could do what he'd just described. At a certain point they, too, would be unable to help. But that didn't make it easier being here. Being a Healer wasn't just a job for Harry, after all.

They settled on their respective makeshift beds and Harry blew out the single candle they had lit.

 

******

 

After breakfast they decided to follow Snape's advice and gather the forces. Ron and Hermione thought it best to invite everyone to their home, despite not having much room. The others could bring tents. Most still had at least one that was enlarged with wizarding space and as Snape figured that they should be safe – they had been transfigured a long while ago, after all, and the tent didn't feed on its residents' magic – they seemed the best option.

"Why didn't we think of that?" Harry asked Snape and, as he was feeling remarkably better this morning, noted the glare he received for using the word _we_. Snape's glares had never kept him from doing something, though.

"Because I don't own such a contraption and because you have the brain of a Flobberworm."

"Hey!"

"Quit your harping, Potter, and start planning." Snape nodded at the list of patients and symptoms that Harry had made the day before. As Harry couldn't remember any of the patients' names, he had added descriptions in hope that they might ring a bell for Snape.

 

__

**Descriptions** | **Symptoms**  
---|---  
Willowy guy with longish blond-brown hair. Scar on his jaw, left side |  Burns on forehead, hands and upper torso  
Black haired guy, boorish | Near drowning   
Guy, brown hair, thin and very gangly | Bleeding ears   
Huge guy, mean looking, no clue about hair colour | Gnome bites   
Blond guy, face marred with acne, medium-height | Slurred speech, obvious poisoning   
  
 

"What was so strange about a near drowning?" Ron asked while looking over Harry's shoulder.

Harry knew why that injury seemed strange to Ron – after all, he'd been the one in the lake, unconscious, not that he remembered much of the whole affair. But Harry had been there, saving him when he'd thought Ron might die – especially because you could never really be sure just how safe anything in the wizarding world was, no matter how much authority figures such as teachers assured you of it. "The guy had weird marks on his wrists and ankles. Like he'd been bound."

"Someone tried to drown him?"

Harry shook his head. "No. Or at least the guy didn't say so. Had some strange tale about going for a swim. But it was in the middle of March. _And_ he Apparated in from Scotland." He added that to the list.

"But there are hospitals up there, too." Ron frowned.

"Exactly."

"And the rest? Same strange stuff?" Ron asked. Harry nodded. At the time, the injuries had seemed a bit odd, weirdly exaggerated or just plain weird, even for the wizarding world where strange and weird were standards. But they had fit into the day, had been small blips on the radar that only now, in retrospect and with the spectre of ancient magic and a ritual hanging over them, might make some sense.

"What about you?" Harry turned to Snape, who had his own list.

 

__

**Ingredients**  
---  
Lovage  
Blood squeezed from a Red Cap  
alihotsy  
Cockatrice egg  
Deadly nightshade  
Poison hemlock  
Yew seeds  
  
 

Harry squinted, then jumped up with a startling cry. "There!" Snape grabbed Harry's list and compared them. "Can you see it?"

"See what?" Hermione raised her head from the books she had been immersed in. "What did you find?"

"A commonality," Snape said and gave her the list. She, too, quickly found the common ingredient in both their lists.

"What is it?" Ron was close to shouting, his face flushed and his body taut – he'd never liked not knowing what was going on. Well, unless there was food to distract him.

"Here." Harry gave him the lists. "See the deadly nightshade on Snape's list? It is extremely poisonous. One of the leaves alone can be fatal, depending on the constitution of the person who consumes it. Deadly nightshade is also known for causing slurred speech, amongst other things."

Ron stared and stared and then finally said: "So someone bought deadly nightshade at Snape's shop and poisoned someone with it?"

"Or used it and poisoned himself. Yes."

 

******

 

At half past three Ron received a message from one of his informants. They had seemed mostly dormant until that point, evoking the suspicion that they were, in fact, dead or had at least fled their assigned lookouts. But that one informant seemed adamant on doing his job.

Ron frowned as he read the message. Even from a distance Harry could see that it had been written in a hurry; the handwriting was sloppy, panicky, and the edges of the parchment had been torn.

"Fuck," Ron breathed. Everyone sat up straighter, Hermione clenching a book she'd been studying, Harry clinging to his cup of tea that did nothing to calm him down. "Some heavy duty guys just stormed Diagon Alley."

"Gringotts?" Harry asked, thinking back to their own break-in at the bank.

Ron shook his head.

"They didn't want money?" Hermione bit her lip. "The potions shop, then? Or the shop for medical supplies?" With an apologetic look at Snape, she added: "In times like these it is only natural for people to start hoarding and try to rely on magic they think is fool-proof."

Ron stopped her right there. "It's nothing like that. They robbed a barrister, broke into his high security vault. Nothing like Gringotts' standards, of course, but we know how secure _that_ is. But the barrister had some Unspeakables help secure his things, because he has high-profile clients. He's actually known for hanging 'round with some mean-faced bastards."

"What did they steal?" Snape asked.

"Can't tell. A lot of paperwork, but since we never laid eyes on the stuff…" Ron shrugged. "Might as well have been confessions of all his clients."

"Was anybody hurt?" Harry couldn't help but think of St. Mungo's and the flood of injured people they would be dealing with. If folks started turning on each other and tried making money when they should be concerned with much bigger things… Well. It would get pretty ugly, that was for sure.

"They didn't attack anybody, as such," Ron said. "But when they stormed the offices, the people hiding out in there were in the way…"

Harry swallowed thickly. "Killed?"

Ron nodded and said nothing more about the manner of death. His face spoke volumes anyway. Finally he added: "Whoever the attackers were, they were prepared. Knew what to do, even with the magic being all wonky."

"That doesn't bode well." Snape looked so calm, like he didn't feel the need and urgency that was driving Harry. "It appears the assailants had prior knowledge regarding the disturbances in the magical fields. Either they are in league with whoever is responsible for what we are suffering from, or they have caused it themselves."

"Then we can't wait any longer," Harry said as he jumped up and paced in front of the fireplace. Their friends – everyone they had been able to reach, anyway – were scheduled to arrive soon, possibly even in the next few hours, but Harry felt anxious to get going. "We need to do something, now!"

Snape clicked his tongue in annoyance from where he was sitting on the sofa. Looking like he was _lounging_. "Cool your temper, Potter. I'm not about to rush head first into a situation without assessing it."

"So we're just going to sit here, doing nothing?"

"Potter, these people are clearly dangerous. Do you really wish to meet them without any preparation whatsoever?"

"I don't want to meet them! I want to do something!"

"And what, pray tell?" A sneer from Snape. Naturally.

"Go to Diagon Alley! See what the damage is, get supplies, _get going_! Sitting here and doing nothing but think about worst-case scenarios isn't going to help!"

"That is –" Snape began, but Hermione finished the sentence for him. "Actually a good idea." Snape's glare was evidence that he hadn't imagined his sentence ending like that. "No, really," Hermione sat up straighter. "We need more information. Of the four of us, you two are most equipped to handle something like that." Ron frowned at that, but waited for Hermione to continue: "Ron, you need to stay in contact with your informants and see about the Ministry. And you're needed here," she added with something that was close to a plea before turning back to Harry and Snape. "Ron and I will gather intel and coordinate everyone who is coming here. Strategize. Harry's good at taking action and you, Sir… well. You were a spy and I'm sure –"

"Yes, the operative word being were."

"Really?" Harry crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Are you really saying that you lost all your spy skills just because of couple of years have passed?" Snape started a staring contest just then, but Harry was determined to win this one. They were needed out there, could actually do something other than just sitting around. It was another reason why he'd become a Healer – it allowed him to act and help, instead of just standing by.

Snape's lip curled into an ugly sneer, one that clearly spoke of Harry winning this argument. "I should have never allowed you to come for tea in the first place, Potter."

 

******

 

Harry had been worried that the car would get them into trouble, but upon their return to London he saw that he shouldn't have bothered. The Muggles were concerned enough with the many strange looking people flooding their streets – probably wondered what kind of role-playing convention was going on now.

Many wizards and witches seemed to have caught on that the usual forms of transportation didn't work anymore and now tried those that they knew, which mostly meant that people tried getting on trains. Panic and confusion were evident and slowly seemed to creep into the Muggles' minds as well, seeing as there was heightened police presence on the streets. Police who didn't pay any attention to passing black cabs, not even when they were going a _little_ over the speed limit.

They decided against parking the car near the back door to Snape's shop as the risk of someone recognising the cab after all was too high. This left The Leaky Cauldron as the only known alternative entry.

It seemed like every wizard and witch, and many magical beings, had found their way in there. The bar was more than just crowded. Snape slipped the hood of his robe over his head and Harry quickly did the same, wishing for a proper glamour. The last thing they needed was for someone to remember Harry had once saved the wizarding world and demand he do it again, quickly. Snape made his way to the bar, but Harry encountered a couple more elbows on the way there – the bane of being slightly smaller than the average elbow-wielder. When he finally reached Snape, he heard the last hissed words of Snape's hurried quest for information.

Tom shook his head, clearly at a loss. "Heard nothing, can you imagine that? No rumour, not even a whisper of what's going on." Somewhere, a bottle broke and Tom cast a worried glance in the direction. "I would love to help you out, I would. Especially seeing as my rations are quickly depleting. Usual refills are impossible, but folks still want their booze." He didn't even ask them if they wanted to drink anything. The best thing would be if the liquor really would be gone quickly, Harry thought. People were already inebriated enough – if they got any drunker and tried out spells… Snape seemed to think along the same lines, because he grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him towards the exit to Diagon Alley.

Unfortunately, things weren't looking much better outside. There was smoke coming from some buildings, windows had been smashed and there was rubble on the street. The scene reminded Harry of the war, of what it had looked like right after. The street itself was mostly deserted – in a few places people were sitting around, holding their heads in their hands, muttering. Some others were running around calling for friends, family or whomever they prayed to. Harry couldn't tell them apart.

The closer they got to Snape's shop, the more destruction they encountered.

"The barrister's offices are close by," Snape said then.

Harry nodded slowly. "I'll go check it out."

"Potter, I won't let –" An explosion further down the street made them duck for cover. Smoke billowed high into the sky and Harry found himself running before the ringing in his ears had stopped. What had Snape wanted say? That he wouldn't let Harry go alone? That he wouldn't let anything happen to Harry? That he wouldn't let down his guard if he were Harry? The thoughts went out the window as Harry saw a woman lying next to what might have been Obscurus Books.

Harry threw himself down on his knees next to her, started checking her for injuries. Head slightly bloody, nothing major, arms and legs intact. Now if only he could get the billboard that had fallen on top of her off. Harry lifted it and threw it away just as footsteps – Snape's footsteps, Harry's brain registered – came up behind him. He paid them no heed; his eyes were fixed on the piece of wood sticking out of the woman's stomach. Her eyes fluttered and Harry found himself gripping her hand as if he could keep her alive with just that gesture, as if he could really do anything now.

"I just wanted to go home," the woman whispered and opened her eyes slightly, looking at Harry with the confusion of the mortally wounded. Stunned, not able to comprehend what was happening. Harry gripped her hand tighter, hoping that she didn't feel any pain. There was nothing he could do, not with this extent of damage and without his magic. She shouldn't have to die. And yet, a second later, her eyes dimmed, her grip slackened and she was gone.

"Damn it!" Harry cursed. He punched the ground and didn't feel better. "God damn it!"

He felt Snape's hand on his arm. A tug. Not gentle, just a tug. Harry let himself be pulled up, but couldn't take his eyes off of the woman's corpse until his vision got blurry. It was only then he realised he was crying.

The first time he'd lost a patient, Harry had cried, too. The second, third and fourth time as well. Somehow he'd always thought he could've done more, changed the outcome by paying more attention or by trying another procedure. It was natural to feel that way, senior Healers had assured him and told him stories about patients they had lost, patients that mattered. This time, Harry cried not because of what he could have done, but because of what he couldn't do. Helplessness, he found, was the worst enemy one could have.

Snape didn't say anything, didn't try to comfort him, but his hand stayed on Harry's arm until they had reached his shop.

Somewhere beneath the pain Harry wondered if it meant anything. Then, slowly, he noticed that someone had broken into the shop and ransacked the place.

"Amateurs." Snape scoffed and went through a door that was barely visible for someone who didn't know the shop and who was in a hurry. Harry couldn't get his feet to comply, so he just stayed rooted in one place, looked around the shop to see if anything of use was still here. Not that they knew it would even work.

When Snape returned, he had two big bags in tow. He grabbed the small vials of greenish looking potions and a red one that looked like Pepper-Up that Harry had been eying these past minutes, then nodded at the back door. "We'd better go out that way. It will take us longer to get back to the car, but it's the wiser decision." Harry agreed silently and started moving again. Out of here. Away. "Do you need anything from your flat?"

At first Harry shook his head, but then he remembered something. Stopped. "My cloak."

 

******

 

They stopped the car when they were past Epping, near Thornwood. Harry leant back against the headrest, closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. The images of Diagon Alley had burned themselves into his mind and he couldn't imagine that they would ever go away.

"What now?" Harry kept his eyes shut. "Are we going to go back to Ron and Hermione's place?"

"Is that what you suggest?"

Harry rubbed his hands over his face. He smelled like fire and ashes. "I don't know. I don't think we'll be of help there, but… I don't know."

"Let's consider the options then," Snape said. He sounded as tired as Harry felt. "We could go back to a house that will soon be filled with all sorts of people who were invited by you and your friends whether they will be of any use or not. Or we could try to find those who stormed the barrister's office, even though we don't know who they are and where they went."

Neither alternative sounded appealing, but sitting around sounded worse. "Maybe we could find out where they went."

"And how, Potter? We have no magic and no means to find out."

"The barrister." Harry opened his eyes.

"What about him?"

"Not him. The office, I mean. You still have the letter that Ron got? The one from the Ministry?" Without thinking, Harry reached over and into the outer folds of Snape's robe. His movement was stopped by Snape's vice-like grip on his wrist.

"Have you lost all sense of decorum?"

But Harry was much too keen on his idea to pay Snape any mind. "Give me the letter," he said and waited until he finally had it in his hands. He read for a couple of seconds and then pointed at a list of clients that Ron had scribbled on the bottom of the parchment. "Look at this! This is our clue – we need to find those people and check whether they have been robbed, too."

 

 

"And why is that?" Snape aimed to sound bored and doubtful, but Harry knew him well enough to recognise his interest. Harry wasn't completely off his rocker, after all.

"Whoever these robbers are, they probably have something to do with unleashing magic, right? And first thing they did –"

"As far as we know."

"Yes. But they robbed the barrister pretty soon after this whole mess started. I say whatever they stole is connected to one or several of the barrister's clients."

Snape looked at Harry, his eyes slightly narrowed, then pursed his lips. "With all the deducting you do, one can't help but wonder whether you shouldn't have become an Auror."

Harry looked away at that. He remembered full well all the conversations and arguments his decision not to become an Auror had caused. "I would have sucked as an Auror," he just said and meant it. Then he added: "I'm just good at solving riddles and get clues because I spent a lot of my bloody youth hunting Horcruxes."

Snape sighed. The sound lacked annoyance – coming from him it was as good as an apology. "There's that."

For a little while nobody said anything while they stared outside, looking at the occasionally passing cars, leaves that fluttered in the breeze, the clouds moving slowly.

"So?" Harry started again. "Do you agree?"

Wordlessly, Snape took the letter back and stared at it. "I went to school with Bevan. Pure-blood, mean streak. He always bragged about taking over his old man's business in Cardiff."

"You think he is still there?"

Snape turned the key in the ignition and cranked into first gear. "Look for a road-map, Potter."

 

******

 

Driving west on the M4, it had only taken them a little over three hours to get to Cardiff, but it was already getting dark. On the way, they'd managed to get lost twice and stopped once to argue about whose fault it had been. When they finally found their way into the city, Snape parked the car near Cardiff castle, but had so far not made a move to leave.

"Do you know where he lives?" Harry asked, as he was slowly getting tired of waiting around.

Snape shook his head. "Usually this wouldn't pose a problem, but we can neither use a locator spell nor can we enter the wizarding district." Snape pointed vaguely at the streets past the castle. "Well, we could, but –"

"No." Harry shook his head to mask his shudder at the thought. But how else were they going to find out where to go? Harry bit his lip and tried a different approach. Anything would sound good if they didn't mean facing a repeat of Diagon Alley. "Are there any districts where the pure-bloods hang out?"

Snape shot him a look, but eventually shrugged. "I wasn't invited to their homes, if that's what you're asking."

"But when you were –"

"The _meetings_ were held elsewhere." Now it was Snape's turn to shudder. Harry placed a hand on Snape's arm that was meant to be comforting, but that was shaken off immediately. He dropped both the hand and the topic.

"I guess we don't have a choice then."

"No, we don't." Snape got out of the car, then stared at it and the broken window. There had been enough chaos in London for them to not have to worry about disguising what they had done, but Cardiff seemed marginally quieter. A black cab without its driver's window would definitely attract attention.

Harry saw Snape reach for his wand and stop. He could practically see the wheels turning in Snape's head – should he try to cast a spell? Use a potion? Snape's eyes flitted to the license tags. Should they take them off?

"I got it," Harry mumbled and rooted around the cab's trunk. He knew he'd seen a garbage bag somewhere…

Five minutes and a lot of cursing later, Harry had stuck the plastic bag from the inside against the hole where the window had been. Elastic tape from the first-aid kit held the construction in place.

Snape sniffed. "A temporary solution at best."

"Better than to have the Muggle police on our backs right now." Harry crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Come on, show me the way."

 

******

 

The magical district of Cardiff had been neither worse nor better off than Diagon Alley. This time, though, the streets had been fairly empty. Harry still hadn't been able to keep from worrying about the stains on the cobblestones that looked suspiciously like dried blood. After having made their way to the nearest inn, they had asked for information and the whereabouts of David Bevan. Locating Bevan had turned out to be easier than expected, while obtaining information regarding what was going on had not. All the innkeeper could tell them was that local Aurors had advised everyone to stay inside and not do any magic until the situation was resolved. They found Bevan sitting at the bar.

Being busy drowning his apparent sorrows in copious amounts of Firewhiskey, Bevan told them that he had just been robbed. "Don't give your money to the bank, Father said. Keep it in a safe, he said." Bevan had snorted loudly and spewed whiskey all over the bar. "They robbed me! Took everything, down to the last Knut!" Harry and Snape had only enough time to get very rough descriptions before Bevan started sobbing ("There were four and one kept talking to himself. Never seen them before. They made me show them the safe. Weird that they knew about it – I never told anyone." Apart from his lawyer, that was).

Since it had gotten late, they were forced to check into a Muggle hotel – on Harry's money. Wizarding hotels and inns were full, since no one could Apparate or Floo home. After a night that was mostly sleepless because the bedsprings squeaked with every move and a toast-and-jam breakfast, Harry and Severus were back on the road.

 

******

 

Harry had borrowed an owl at the inn the night before, asking Ron to try and find out more about the barrister's clients, especially where they lived. Pig found him just after they had left Wales.

 

_Hey Harry,_

_Most of the family arrived today. Charlie is still in Romania and Hermione is writing him to tell him how to get here via car or one of those flying things, but I don't know if he'll manage. George said Diagon Alley was really bad before he managed to get out – seems like it was a close call._

 

Harry remembered seeing Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and the pillar of smoke rising from it and shuddered. At least George was alive and well.

 

_He says some of the merchandise just went crazy and that his workroom exploded. He wouldn't say much about what was going on outside, but I figure it was bad. I have seen the expression on his face before._

_Neville managed to come by, too, and is working on some inside knowledge regarding the plants Snape said were bought at the shop. Now, before Snape begins bitching at you: I know he knows his ingredients, but Neville is a plant geek. Can't hurt to have some background info, right?_

_We're trying to figure out who might be behind all of this – my theory was Malfoy, but Hermione invited him, too, and he seems as piss-poor freaked-out as the others, so there's that._

_Regarding the barrister's clients – once I get to the Ministry I can run their names. Dad said we could also borrow a car and that he could drive – I'm not too keen on trying again, after what happened with his last car…_

 

The writing changed to Hermione's.

 

_Harry, I asked Malfoy for help, seeing as he's a pure-blood. He knows of the Macpherson family and says they live in Hull, but he doesn't have any more information on whoever Carol Macpherson might be. As for Isambard Thomson, Malfoy thinks he lives up in Aberdeen, Scotland. They are related, he says, but everyone hates Thomson because – and I quote – 'He is a stingy, mean Thestral-fucking bastard'. Malfoy has apparently upgraded his insults._

 

Ron's scrawl took over again.

 

_I like that one, actually. Maybe I should have a talk with Malfoy, see what else he can come up with. Anyway, we'll get back to you once we know more._

_Don't forget to update us, so we don't think you're dead, mate!_

_Cheers,  
Ron  & Hermione_

 

Harry grinned wryly and shook his head. Somehow it comforted him to know that Ron would always stay the same: a constant fixture in his life, even though everything else seemed to be on the way to hell.

"What are you grinning about, Potter?" Snape said and snatched up the letter. When his lip curled, Harry knew he'd reached the bit about Neville. Contrary to Harry's expectations, Snape didn't make a comment about Neville's abilities. Instead, he gave the letter back to Harry. "Everything is in motion then."

Harry nodded. "Seems like it is." They stared out of the front window in silence for a while, watched the sky grow darker. They wouldn't be driving for a couple of hours at least; both of them were exhausted and could use a proper night's sleep, but there wasn't any inn around for miles. They had to content themselves with the car.

Harry's eyes moved from the scenery to the petrol meter and finally settled on Snape's hands. There were cuts there now, from the rubble on Diagon Alley. Usually they were smooth, maybe a bit callused from holding a knife to cut potion ingredients. But Harry rarely saw cuts on Snape's fingers. Maybe Snape healed them as soon as they happened, but Harry suspected that Snape actually rarely cut himself. He was too careful, too precise, too controlled to slip like that. Seeing him with those cuts – it did something to Harry. He couldn't put a name to it, only knew that it made him squirm inside and –

"Something wrong with my hands, Potter?"

Harry startled and blinked at Snape, pondered for a moment if he should dare to… Well. It wasn't like he had a lot to lose, now. "Remember how I told you that I like your hands?"

Snape sighed. "It seems like eons ago. But yes, I remember your flight of fancy."

"Not a flight of fancy," Harry said, shaking his head. He wanted to smack – no, kiss Snape's stubbornness out of him. "I mean it." Why not go a little further? He was a Gryffindor, after all. "Severus."

 _Severus_ stared at him as if Harry had just suggested they should have wild monkey sex on the hood of the car. Not that it was a bad idea, as such, but maybe a little bit _too_ bold. For now. Finally, Severus seemed to compose himself again. "If you insist on this folly –"

Suddenly, Harry started to wonder if he had imagined that Severus had ever looked at him with interest. Sometimes, when he was attracted to someone, he wanted so much that the other person would return his feelings that his mind interpreted even the most harmless looks and gestures as interest. It had happened before and usually led to Harry feeling like a complete berk for not realising sooner that he was nothing more than a _friend_. And with Severus… well, he didn't even know if Severus saw him as a friend as such. "I'm attracted to you, Severus," Harry said with a sigh. "The question remains: are you attracted to me, too? And if yes, are you going to do something about it?" He couldn't force Severus to like him. Couldn't even be angry if Severus wasn't attracted to him. But he had to know.

Severus exhaled long and loudly. And said nothing, just stared straight ahead. The ever-hopeful Gryffindor fool in Harry took hope in the fact that Severus didn't say 'No'.

 

******

 

Harry woke without a start; gently, he shook off the remnants of a dream he couldn't remember, but didn't dare to open his eyes just yet. His head was resting on _Severus'_ shoulder and it was uncomfortable, slowly but surely giving Harry a cramp in his neck, but he could feel Severus' warmth against his skin. He revelled in that moment, when reality and its problems seemed so far away and when the only thing that really mattered was their synchronous breathing, their closeness.

Silently, Harry wondered whether Severus was still asleep or if he, too, was conscious of the space they shared. Never in his life had Harry thought a car could bring him close to Severus. But he'd never imagined they'd be in a situation like this.

He chased the thought away again, opened one of his eyes a crack. He couldn't see much, not without the glasses that he'd tucked safely into a pocket near the door, but he could make out that it was day and that what appeared to be condensation on the windows prevented him from looking out. Maybe, if he closed his eyes again, he could sleep a little more. And maybe, if he was lucky, he could have a nice dream about Severus. It sounded like a good idea.

 

******

 

After the first wave of terror had passed they hadn't expected anything worse to come – and certainly nothing like this. It hit them like the second wave of a tsunami – not as lethal, but devastating all the same. The wizarding world found itself completely paralysed – Aurors couldn't get to emergencies quickly anymore, most shops had to stay closed because products couldn't be manufactured due to the lack of magic.

"I didn't expect it to be like this," Harry said to Severus, who was reading Hermione's letter along with him.

"What did you think it'd be like? Our world relies on the ability to cast spells, to use magic. Without it, we are nothing but Muggles without skills and who know nothing about how to live in a Muggle world." Snape shook his head. "If this issue isn't resolved soon…" He broke off and cleared his throat. "Mr Weasley does claim that the Ministry and its Aurors are doing what they can, but both of us know of their track record."

"Things have changed."

"True. But these changes don't give me faith in the system."

"Just when everything finally calms down, shit hits the fan." Harry sighed and wished for things to be different. Of course wishing had seldom helped anyone.

"You are a real word-smith."

Harry grinned. "I should've been a poet."

Severus made gagging noises. "Merlin, help me."

 

******

 

They were on their way to Hull, a city in the northeast of England, to hopefully find and meet another of the barrister's clients. They knew little about Carol Macpherson, but hoped they would find out more once they got there. The only thing delaying them was their very empty stomachs. A little Indian restaurant in some nondescript town along the road was their compromise on what to do about food, which left them sitting on cheap-looking chairs but with halfway decent food.

Harry ran a piece of naan bread through what was left of the butter chicken sauce on his plate. "Can we talk?" he said after long deliberation. 'You're a man of action,' he had told himself again and again until he had finally scraped up enough courage to say something.

"I believe we are talking just now." Severus didn't look up from his newspaper. _The Prophet_ hadn't published a thing since magic was let loose and not even _The Quibbler_ was in business anymore. They had to make do with Muggle papers and try to find news that was linked to the wizarding world. They found more of those in the yellow press naturally, but it was still strange to see Severus read _The Daily Mail_.

Harry sighed. "Come on, you know that's not what I meant. Please?"

With an expression that spoke of incredible suffering on Severus' side, Severus put his paper away and raised his eyebrow (the right one) in expectation.

"Thank you." Harry cleared his throat. Now that he had Severus' attention he didn't know where to begin. He settled for: "This is weird."

" _What_ is weird, Potter?"

"Harry."

Severus nodded. "Yes, you are weird, but that doesn't come as a surprise. You didn't interrupt my reading to tell me that."

Sometimes – or rather, quite often – Harry had the urge to grab something heavy, like a pan maybe, and hit Severus on the head with it. He did have other ideas on how to shut Severus up, some of which were rather more pleasant than painful, but… Well. They were the reason he was talking to Severus now. "No. I mean you and me. Things are weird between us."

"We're occasionally sleeping in the cab that I stole, cannot cast any magic and drive around the country with the desperate hope to find either the persons who unleashed the whole world's magic or the objects that are worth so much to them to have caused all this havoc or maybe even those ingredients that are needed for an obscure and mainly unknown ritual to turn things back to status quo. You mean that kind of 'weird'?"

"Partly," Harry said after finding his ability to speak again. Occasionally Severus was like a train running you over. "Especially the 'sitting in a stolen car' bit. But what I actually mean is: ever since I told you how I feel about you –"

"You didn't tell me, you babbled."

"I always babble and you know that. You understand me perfectly well even when I babble." Harry scratched his eyebrow to give himself some time to get back on topic. "Ever since I told you, it's weird between you and me."

"What did you expect?"

"Well, I hoped that you would feel the same."

Severus looked away, out the window. Harry knew that there was something, that maybe Severus felt something more than friendship for him, too, but he couldn't pressure him. He couldn't force Severus to admit it or force him to love Harry back. If anything, Harry had learned that much in his life. He was different from all the other men in Severus' life – the men from the past. Dumbledore and Voldemort had only forced Severus to do their bidding. If he really wanted Severus, then he had to be different. Severus had to be the one making the decision. So he'd take a step back. Keep on flirting here and there, keep on hoping. Keep on wanking quickly in the shower while picturing Severus naked and in there with him. Harry certainly wasn't a patient man, but he'd try to be, for Severus. There was only one thing left to do. "I'm sorry."

Severus' head swivelled around so quickly that Harry was worried he might get high velocity trauma. "What?"

"I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable and I accept your decision to… not to want more than friendship from me. It won't change my feelings for you, but if it's friendship that you want I will gladly accept that."

Severus stared at Harry as if he'd spontaneously grown a second head that looked like a singing carp. Mounted on the wall. Harry waited and waited and finally it came. "Thank you."

 

******

 

Hull was a bust. It took them nearly two days to find Carol Macpherson and when they finally found her, she wasn't exactly helpful. Carol Macpherson was a middle-aged witch with two little kids who followed her around despite her house-elf's insistence Master and Miss needed to go to the playroom.

She wore a weird smile that made her next words seem a little bit strange. "Hurry up with your questions, please. As you can see, I have my hands full," she said while sitting with a cup of tea on a crème-coloured rococo sofa. She seemed oddly collected despite the chaos.

"I'm sorry if we are keeping your from more important things, Madam," Severus said and Harry had to bite back a grin, because it was evident that Severus was anything but sorry, "But we are trying to find out what has disturbed magic everywhere."

Mrs Macpherson raised a perfectly styled eyebrow. "Oh yes, that." She waved her hand around. "My husband said it was only a temporary problem, nothing to worry about." She took a sip from her tea, then added, "He will be home quite soon, you know."

"You're really not worried?" Harry couldn't imagine anybody, especially not someone who was a mother, could be this calm. He longed to cast a spell to check her for hexes, Imperius especially, and judging from Severus' clenched hands he was thinking along the same lines. But he had to make do with questions.

"No. David said everything would be fine."

Severus cleared his throat. "Mrs Macpherson, was anything stolen from you recently?"

She turned her face slowly towards Severus. "Stolen?" She blinked. "No. I… yes." She blinked again, swatted at a fly that wasn't in front of her face. "No," she finally corrected herself. Harry swallowed. He'd seen enough people under an Imperius to now have his suspicions confirmed. "Iffy?" The house-elf turned towards her at her helpless question and then looked at Harry and Severus with a hard stare.

"Masters need to leave now," Iffy said and ushered them up and out. The last thing they heard from Mrs Macpherson was: "Yes, David said to be good this time." And Iffy added: "Master does not like unannounced guests," before slamming the door in their faces.

Harry and Severus looked at one another. Whatever was going on here, the husband seemed to be the source and the house-elf was complicit. But they couldn't lift the spell on the wife and couldn't help, not without their magic. Harry silently vowed to ask Malfoy about her in his next letter to Ron.

"We will come back, right?" Harry asked as they walked towards the car. He waited for Severus nod before he continued, "Do you think this has anything to do with magic regressing to its ancient form?"

"I don't know," Severus said. "But we should keep an eye on this." Shortly after that, they had left Hull and drove further north to find a place to stay in for the night.

 

******

 

They'd come as far as west as Greystoke before they had decided that going any further without having a clue where to go would be madness. Then an owl came; this letter wasn't addressed to Harry, though. Glimpsing over Severus' shoulder as he read, Harry recognised Hermione's writing. Severus let him keep reading.

 

_I can't make heads or tails of this, Professor._

_I think I have found the symbol that is needed for both the ritual to activate and the ritual to control ancient magic, but I can't tell how it could be used._

__

 

__

 

The elements and attributes seem to be interwoven and linked, which has to have some meaning. I cannot figure out what that is exactly, though. I believe that the ritual incorporates these elements in some form, but I have no idea what exactly has been used to represent them. I will do more research, naturally, but I was wondering if you had any idea regarding what we could be looking for. I am sure that whatever was used to unleash the magic was rare and powerful, which leads me to believe we should use something equally powerful. But neither Ron nor I have had to conduct any ritual yet, especially not one that is so complex.

 

"It makes sense to use all elements and attributes," Severus said without looking up from the drawing. "They will activate all aspects of magic."

"Kind of like when you use a certain ingredient in a potion to a represent an element so that the potion will work in regard to the element?"

Severus raised both his eyebrows and his following question came out with something of a scoff. "You paid attention during potions?"

"Had to pass it to become a Healer, you know."

Severus sniffed. "I try to ignore that fact. The thought of you handling potions is still a source of worry to me."

Harry chose to ignore _that_. "Besides, brooms use the same concept. The potion put on the wood when they are whittled and carved is infused with tiny bits of Veela hair."

"Trust you to dredge up a Quidditch reference."

Harry shot Severus a quick grin before focussing on the drawing Hermione had sent them, again.

 

_Since we suspect more than just a symbol and whatever represents the elements is needed for the ritual, we will be researching further in that direction. But we hoped you might be able to find more on the elemental representation that is needed for the ritual._

 

"Any ideas on how to solve this problem?"

Severus consulted the list of ingredients that he had made, but shook his head. "None of the ingredients bought at my shop were used for this ritual."

"You sure?" Harry sank back into the seat and sighed. "What were they used for, then?"

"A potion, I would wager."

Harry frowned. He glanced at the letter again, but his confusion didn't vanish. "So they used a potion and other stuff for the ritual?"

"Rather: they used certain objects and ingredients to lay out the setting for the ritual in which the potion was used."

"That doesn't tell us what we've got to do, though."

"No. We still don't have a potion that would result in the control of magic, nor do we know which objects and ingredients should be used for the ritual. Plus, we will need an incantation _and_ most likely the right place and time to perform the whole business. And let's not forget that we have to do all of this without actually having any control over our magic."

His words went through Harry with a whoosh. He'd been faced with quite a couple of what-ifs, some of which had seemed daunting, if not impossible. How were they supposed to brew a potion and use an incantation – a spell – when the outcome of both was unpredictable? And even if they didn't have that problem, their task ahead was so vague that Harry didn't even know where to begin. "Is there anything else in the letter?"

Severus looked like he was about to say no, but then he turned the parchment and found a couple more lines from a hand that Harry didn't immediately recognise. The writing looked old fashioned and relied heavily on italics.

"What does it say?"

"Draco contacted his father regarding Macpherson," Severus paraphrased as he scanned the letter. "Apparently Lucius is acquainted with the husband and has some choice words that I don't care to repeat."

"If Lucius Malfoy doesn't like someone is that a good or a bad thing for us?"

Severus' mouth quickly moved in something that could be classified as a wry grin before turning back into a thin line. "In this case it means trouble. David Macpherson was convicted of white-collar crimes – fraud and trickery, mostly – and was released from Azkaban about two months ago. That as such is nothing we would have to worry about. But Macpherson holds a grudge against those who got him convicted. Especially since everyone he stole from got their items and money back. And it seems like his wife is not technically his wife anymore."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning they are divorced."

Harry sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. "So he put her under an Imperius and made her believe that they are still married. I don't even want to think about what she had to go through already."

Severus nodded tightly. "The Aurors will take care of that problem once magic is back to its proper state. For now that's all we can do." Severus folded the parchment slowly and tucked it into his robes where he kept the rest of their letters and notes. They were more secure there, he claimed, especially in the event when they would have to abandon the car. In Harry's opinion, an event that led to that would also mean that they were screwed, but he kept that to himself. Most likely, Severus would disagree anyway.

 

******

 

It was a letter from Ron that sent them to the Isle of Arran. Harry had never heard of the place before – geography hadn't, after all, been a subject at Hogwarts. Harry, once again, found his education lacking – and not only because there had been a death threat hanging over his head for quite a bit of his time at Hogwarts. Ron supposed that the family tomb of an old pure-blood family, whose estates the barrister had managed, was situated right near the cliffs of the Isle of Arran. Like quite some of the old families, the Hookes didn't fully trust the Gringotts Goblins with their possessions and therefore had buried their ancestors with some of the valuables, in hopes that their spirits and their magic would protect the possessions. The tomb was the perfect place for the next heist.

Harry had fallen asleep again, head lolling from side to side, the jerking of the car waking him occasionally. A prod in his side as they stopped made Harry open his eyes.

"Are we there yet?"

"Yes. Get your lazy arse out of the car and get ready."

Harry blinked and yawned, then looked around and froze. Slowly, he got out of the car. He walked as if he was in a trance, further and further towards the edge, and looked down the cliff. There was little vegetation; the rocky surface was spotted with lichens and moss. Below, the sea crashed against the rocks, wild and untamed forever. "I know this place," he whispered. "I've been here before." The wind picked up.

"When?" Severus came to a stop next to him. He looked apprehensive, but not for the same reasons Harry did.

"Dumbledore." Harry swallowed. "That last night. He took me here. I… there was a cave. We thought there was a Horcrux inside and I had to feed Dumbledore poison before I could get to the locket. But it turned out that Regulus Black had already taken it."

For a long time Severus didn't say anything. Then, finally: "His last night?"

Harry nodded. The wind tore at his hair. What could the thieves possibly want from here? Why did they have to choose this of all places? But there wasn't time for deliberations.

"Come," Severus said. Both of them held their wands tight, even though Harry wasn't sure whether it was an automatic response or whether they both needed reassurance. They made their way down a narrow path down the cliff. Steps with raw edges were in the rocks, allowing them to walk instead of climb. They looked natural, but even in his current state Harry could feel the magic still sizzling in the stone from back when the steps had been shaped.

Thankfully, the cave they entered wasn't the same that Harry had been in with Dumbledore. He remembered the Inferi and shuddered uncontrollably. They didn't have to wade through water either, just edge forwards carefully and step into what the Hookes used as a tomb.

It was quiet down there, damp and eerie. Harry held up the electric torch that he'd thoughtfully bought at a petrol station on the way. He didn't want to risk casting a Lumos – casting one might very well blind them or blow them up. Harry let the light wander through the cave. It really was only a chamber with two tunnels leading deeper into the cliff. On the walls Harry found signs of torches that had once been lit by magic, but apart from that the first chamber yielded nothing.

Harry inched forward, first looking down one tunnel, then the other. They looked exactly the same and when a look back at Severus only brought him a shrug to help with the decision which one to take, Harry exhaled and marched down the one he was closest to.

If they got to the tombs before the criminals did, they would be able to get whatever they were looking for first. Maybe that would put such a huge chink in the bad guys' plans that they would be forced to do something else, preferably to restore the magic. Though Hermione and Severus had both said that the ritual that had once been used to rein in magic had been lost.

Faintly the roar of the sea could be heard, but the deeper they went down the tunnel, the more distant the sound grew. Despite the twists and turns of their path, they were clearly moving farther into the isle. Around them, water dribbled from stalactites, causing the sounds of the cave to be even more eerie. Whenever Harry's hand reached out to brace him, he touched the slippery wet, cool surface of the rock. There was no tingling or sizzling in it here, leading Harry to the conclusion that while the stairs outside had been crafted by magic, nature had created these caves and tunnels. Amidst all this quietness, Harry turned around to see if Severus was still behind him. Severus' dark clothes, Muggle friendly, swallowed the light of the electric torch, but his presence had a calming effect on Harry. This cave would be different.

After at least ten solid minutes of walking, Harry spotted an opening to another cave. He shut off the torch, motioned for Severus to stop and inched forward to peek around the edge. Nothing. Harry hesitated only for a moment before switching on the torch again and moving into the room. Several feet inside, the light fell on two huge statues – wizards with long beards and dangerous eyes, clutching their wands in hands that would never be weak. They had reached the tombs.

"They look as if they might come alive," Harry whispered without taking his eyes away from the statues.

"They might have, before," Severus said and moved closer to inspect them. "A common guarding spell with old pure-blood families. Most likely, these wizards were people who the family claims have founded their lineage."

The stress of the situations let Harry give out a small, weird giggle. "With each other?" Severus gave him a look and turned to study the door the statues had once been guarding. Harry cleared his throat. He'd done riskier things than enter this cave, so why was being here making him so nervous? "How do we get in?"

"I would say we need a key."

"A key?" Harry groaned. "We went all this way to find out we needed a key we don't have?"

"Don't throw the towel just yet, Boy Without Imagination," Severus said and started digging in the satchel he had brought.

"I have plenty of imagination," Harry grumbled and saw Severus freeze for just a second. Hmm. Harry watched how Severus inserted a tool of some kind into the lock – where had he seen that before? Work? Arthur's Muggle collection? Then it came to him – he'd seen it on telly, in a Muggle show called _Taggart_. Harry dug in his memory to find the right word for it (key picker? lock opener? Lock pick?), but found none that fit. Over the years, the little Muggle vocabulary that he had had shrunk for the lack of usage. He didn't talk to Dudley all that often and he and Hermione were mostly too consumed by their wizarding life to concern themselves with Muggle things. That left the telly, and even for that Harry didn't have much time.

Finally, the lock of the door clicked – Severus' efforts had paid off. Both curious as hell, they squeezed through the doorway the same time, Harry holding the torch up high to allow them both to see. On the right and on the left there were two sarcophagi, each with a different face of a witch or a wizard. All around the room shelves had been hewn into the walls. In them, what seemed like hundreds of valuables and urns had been carefully placed and probably been shielded with a spell against dust. In the middle stood a stone basin – a huge pensieve, large enough to hold memories of all the people buried down here.

"Wow."

"Lucius Malfoy once told me that his family had a tomb like this, but I have never been inside." Even Severus had something like awe in his voice. Right in front of them were hundreds of years of wizarding history. It didn't matter who these dead had once been, but what made this place so impressive, so _immense_ , was the history behind the people. Harry's and Severus' and every other wizard's and witch's past.

"What can they be looking for?" Harry asked and looked around. Lockets, clocks, goblets and cups, even a golden Snitch, long devoid of magic, lay here. "There's tons of stuff."

Before they could say anything else, the sound of hollow voices reached them. Harry and Severus looked at each other. Fuck. Harry thought back to the room before the tomb – had there been another tunnel? Had there been any path other than the one they had taken or were they really caught in this room? Yes. Yes, they were, he realised. Severus must have come to the same conclusion, because he quickly closed the door.

The voices came closer; he could hear them even through the closed door. He didn't want to think about what would happen if they were caught – the number of possibilities was too paralysing – but he knew he couldn't just give up or leave without at least accomplishing something.

"Take something!" Harry urged Severus and grabbed a goblet and platinum jewel casket near him. A silver snake brooch and the snitch vanished into Severus' satchel. The voices had reached the door.

"I still don't understand why all of us had to come," a man said. Harry labelled him Bad Guy #1.

"Just because everything went as planned doesn't mean this time will go as smoothly. By taking you with us, we can ensure maximum success." Bad Guy #2.

"Besides, who else is going to do the heavy lifting?" Bad Guy #3. The voice was snotty, a little like Malfoy, but way more uncongenial.

"Whatever, David. You got the key?" #1 again. This time gruffer.

"Mind your tone," #3 – David – said and Harry imagined him handing over a thick, big key, opening the lock. Suddenly, Harry remembered Carol Macpherson talking about her husband, _David_. Was this he? If so, what was he doing here? The shuffling behind the door tore Harry from his considerations. No time for that now. Harry reached for the shelf next to him, his hand looking for something that he could use as a weapon. He would need it against what were at least three opponents. His fingers grasped a candlestick, thick and heavy in his hand, and he pulled it close to his chest. A creak in the lock told of the Bad Guys' entering of the tomb soon and Severus and Harry tried melting further into the deep shadows. Neither said anything, nor did they have to in order to know what they had to do.

They waited and the door opened. The figure that stood outlined against the light was the first to speak: "How delightfully old-fashioned. And tacky." Harry recognised the voice as David's. Two others shuffled behind him. "Ian, give me some light in here."

But before Ian, who shuffled forward, had the chance to do much of anything, Severus switched on the electric torch and shone it directly at their faces. They jerked back with a cry, raised their hands up to shield themselves from the light. Harry only hesitated for a second before swinging the candlestick towards Ian. He'd barely scraped him before the fist met his face. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Severus hit one of the others, but soon the heavy-set guy pummelled in on him and he lost sight of Severus.

It had been ages since he'd been in a fistfight, but he had thought his encounters back then would have been of help. Instead, he felt sluggish in comparison, ducked too late and held his arms weirdly. The other guy was huge and – judging from the way Harry's hands were feeling – made out of stone. A hit against his left eye made Harry stumble backwards and fall and he scrambled to his feet quickly, not wanting those boots to get close to his face. Blood was streaming from a wound on his eyebrow and obscured his vision. His glasses hung askew and were broken at least on the left side. Harry gripped his candlestick tighter and tried to see if there was any way out. But the big bloke was blocking the entrance and Severus – a cry from somewhere made Harry whip his head around. A bad decision, he found, since two fists did a quick double jab to his stomach and jaw and landed him back on the floor. This time within kicking-distance of those damn boots. He saw them draw back for an attack and tried to roll away, closing his eyes, before they came.

Then Harry heard a shout: " _Reducto_!" and a crash and the boots didn't come. He was pulled to his feet with the words: "I can't let you out of my sight for a second." Harry opened his eyes and saw Severus in the half-light, who then pulled him towards the exit. He tried to catch a glimpse of Ian – would he follow them? – but Severus pulled harder and said, "It's best you didn't."

They made their way towards the surface as quick as they could with Harry pressing two slightly used tissues against his bleeding eyebrow and both of them feeling quite rightly as if they had just sparred with a dragon. Or Hagrid. It took a long time, but eventually they made it to the car.

 

******

 

Severus had kept Harry awake for the ride, prodding his leg (a spot that hurt only moderately) to keep him from falling asleep. Now the car had finally stopped and Severus, after vanishing for some moments, opened the door on Harry's side to help him out.

"Will we stay here?" Harry asked and tried to make out a sign that told him the name of whatever inn they were at, but it was too dark and his glasses too fucked up to let him see anything.

"Yes, for the night."

Harry leaned against the car while Severus grabbed the few possessions they had, then stumbled with him towards what he supposed must be the door.

"Don't make too much noise – the innkeeper is a short-slighted old fellow and I convinced him that we had a little climbing accident out at the cliffs. I don't want him to feel the need to take a closer look," Severus said. They slowly made their way up the stairs and into a musty smelling room. Severus bustled him into the bathroom and then went away again to get some supplies.

Harry moved closer to the only mirror in the room and tried to right his glasses. "There," he muttered as he managed to lift both earpieces behind his ears at the same time. Now he could see a bit better, at least. Although Harry wasn't sure if that was all that great, now that he saw what those fists had done to his face. In front of him was a bloody mess – black eyes already forming, the left being well on its way to swelling shut, his jaw black and blue, mouth and eyebrow bloody. But hey, it had stopped bleeding at least.

Gingerly, Harry lifted up his shirt and took a look at his chest. The bruises were already setting, but as far as he could tell none of his injuries there were critical. Nevertheless, his chest wasn't anything he'd like to present to Severus, that was for sure.

"You look like shit." Too late. Harry sighed and squinted at Severus in the mirror.

"You don't look too hot, either." Actually, he did, fat lip and shiner notwithstanding.

Severus placed a still frozen cool-pack in Harry's hand, then manoeuvred him until Harry stood in the right position for Severus to take a look at his face. "You might need stitches."

"Nah, it's too late for that," Harry said. "The wound has begun closing. Now all I can do is apply Betadine and strong Butterfly stitches."

"Are you quite sure?"

"Hey, I'm the Healer here." Harry pressed the cool-pack against his jaw and bit back a wince. "Thanks for this."

Severus inclined his head, then pressed his own cool-pack against his eye. "Do you need assistance?"

Harry gave a careful, slow nod – best not upset the head – put the cool-pack down and set to work.

 

******

 

Harry washed his hands one last time before joining Severus in the other room. Severus had switched on the telly, and was watching a re-run of some football match. Harry sat down next to him, pondering whether he should just lie down and sleep. His head hurt and he wasn't sure whether he had a concussion or not – it would be so much easier if he could've cast diagnostic and healing spells. It was only then that Harry remembered that Severus had cast a spell down in the tomb. _Something_ had happened, something bad and unpredictable. Unconsciously, Harry bit his lip and winced spectacularly.

"What is it?" Severus didn't take his eyes of the damn telly.

Now or never, Harry thought. "What happened down there?" Severus stayed silent and for a moment Harry thought he might not have heard or that he might not have understood, but then Severus gave a sigh of such obvious defeat that Harry's stomach turned. "That bad?"

"I shouldn't have used a spell."

"You saved me." Harry hesitated for a second, then laid his hand on Severus'.

"Yes. I…"

"You regret it?"

Severus looked up sharply. "You truly are a dolt." He took his wand from his pocket, twisted it, looked at it. "I regret killing that man. It had not been my intention."

"So he's –" The look in Severus' eyes was almost too painful to bear. And Harry understood that it was not because Severus had _killed_ someone, but because he had killed someone _unintentionally_. He struggled for something to say, but all the things that came to his mind were wrong somehow. Probably because there was nothing he could say to make this right. Harry swallowed thickly. "Tired?"

Severus hung his head and closed his eyes. "Exhausted," he whispered.

Harry squeezed Severus' hand and moved closer to look at him, to get him to edge down the bed and maybe find some peace in sleep. Then Severus looked up and they were so close – close enough for their breaths to mingle, for the heat from their injuries to radiate towards the other. Before Harry could move back to give Severus his space, Severus moved and his lips found Harry's. It hurt, but that was okay. Sometimes, good things had to hurt. Like Harry's heart that wanted to burst in two. Harry clutched Severus' shirt and tried pulling him closer as he parted his lips. Severus' stubble scratched at Harry's bruised skin. He tasted salty-sweet. They kissed until it got too much and even then they didn't let go, held each other awkwardly. Harry was too exhausted to think about what had happened or to even talk about it and in the end they just switched off the lights, got under the covers and fell asleep, hands and shoulders close.

 

******

 

They'd skipped breakfast at the inn and had left early in the morning, as the need to get off the Isle of Arran was overwhelming. Armed with no plan and no access to owls, they were on their own for now. They had not been able to find out what object the bad guys had been looking for, which pretty much made the adventure from the night before a big failure.

The nearest wizarding community, scattered as it probably was at this moment, was Glasgow and going there seemed to be their best bet. Maybe Hermione and Ron had an idea of how to proceed now. Severus and Harry didn't touch or talk bar the necessities while they were on the ferry. Severus seemed to be so caught up in his thoughts and Harry didn't know what to say. Especially not about the night before. He longed to touch Severus, to hold and kiss him, but he was quite sure it would not be appreciated. And he couldn't help but wonder if Severus hadn't just kind of used him to push the thoughts of the dead bloke aside. It wasn't a thought he was comfortable with – especially because it meant that most likely there wouldn't be a repeat performance.

Before they reached Glasgow, Severus stopped at a dingy-looking rest stop. Harry followed him inside and looked around for something halfway edible. The rest stop was small; main room with counter and display fridges, plus a hallway that led to the bathrooms (which, judging from the way the main room looked, Harry never ever wanted to see) and the emergency exit. Slowly, Harry went up and down the display cases. He forewent the pasties that looked like they had been waiting at the counter for at least two days – forewent anything the rest-stop claimed was 'fresh', actually – and grabbed a Peperami, a packaged piece of stale, dry cake and a cup of tea. While eating, he tried not to pay too much attention to the food and looked out of the dirty window instead. The cab was looking slightly worn already. Sooner or later they would have to find a way to replace the broken window, too. Especially because Harry really didn't fancy spending another cold, draughty night in the car.

An incoming vehicle got his attention and Harry watched it park next to the petrol pumps. The driver was a bulky guy – mean looking, too – but he stayed in the car. Two other guys left the car and the one who had been sitting behind the driver pointed at the black cab. Harry swallowed the last piece of Peperami and looked closer at the other guy.

"Oh shit." He didn't have to turn his head to see that he had Severus' complete attention. "It's them." Rooted to the spot, Harry watched the other guy – David, possibly? – nod at the rest stop. They were coming in. "Go!" Harry shouted, grabbed Severus' sleeve and ran towards the emergency exit. He heard the front door's bells ding as they burst through the back door.

"How many?" Severus asked as they edged around the building.

"I saw three. Two inside and one in the car."

"Are you sure?"

"No." Harry breathed heavily. His wounds started stinging harder again, his ribcage hurt more than it had before and his mouth was dry. Another confrontation would be more than just bad. "We have to make a run for it."

"Agreed."

Harry let go of Severus' sleeve and together they sprinted towards the car. Harry thanked the heavens for automatic locks as he slammed the door closed and Severus punched into first gear. The engine howled as David and the other guy stormed out of the rest stop. Severus drove straight towards them, causing them to jump aside, and they sped off back on the M77.

Harry turned around on his seat and looked behind them. "I can't see them."

"Doesn't mean they won't follow us." Severus punched into third gear. The engine was still howling, but they were gaining speed, fast. "Now fasten your seatbelt and think."

"About what?"

"About where to get a new car from. They know this one too well."

 

******

 

Severus and Harry ditched the car in a dodgy-looking parking lot in the west end of Glasgow and took the bus to the city centre. Judging from the looks he and Severus got, Harry knew they fit right in; nobody tried talking to them anyway.

The Glasgow owlery, thankfully, was not located within the wizarding district, but rather was disguised as an owl centre around southeast Glasgow. The place had got by fairly unscathed and quickly getting in and out to send a letter wasn't a problem for them. That left them with only one problem: they needed a car.

A trip farther outside the city took care of that – what could be a wedding venue proved to be an excellent place to find a substitute car. Severus didn't have to break a window this time, but rather used their good fortune and squeezed his long, thin arm through the little window opening. Meanwhile, Harry was on the lookout. An old Land Rover station wagon was their choice – because it was out of the range of the cameras and because it had no alarm system.

Not knowing where to go next, but needing to get away further from the scene of their crime and from David and his goons, left them little choice but to drive on. East seemed to be the obvious choice, so they drove north and hoped for a speedy reply from Hermione. It finally came when they sky had already turned dark blue.

_We are so glad to hear from you! We were already worried._

_It seems like we are making some headway with our research. George thinks that he has found several rituals that could make up whatever has unleashed the magic. He claims that they all use parts of the ingredients that you listed, but I think it's best if you check that, Professor. My own research indicates that it was most likely a made-up combination of a ritual and spells that did it. After all, nobody ever attempted or succeeded at something like this before. So George's findings might be possible, but I'd rather have a second opinion. Your understanding of ritual magic is probably greater than ours. (You can find George's suggestions attached at the end.)_

_Neville, Luna and Ron think they might have figured out how the part with the elements comes together._

 

Here a different hand took over – unmistakably Ron's messy scrawl.

 

_Okay, mate, it's like this. The ritual uses the four elements, right? First we tried finding common denominators with Snape's ingredients, but George kept on insisting that those were used for potions and spells and such and they didn't seem to fit with what we understand under 'fire', 'water', 'air', and 'earth'. Then Neville and Hagrid thought about the injuries you listed and Hagrid said that he recognized some, because he suffered them himself. With our mad combinatory skills we came to the conclusion that those arseholes must've gotten hurt while in contact with magical creatures – meaning they were collecting them or parts of them for the ritual. Now, we don't know all of those creatures – because, come on, a lot of creepers can give you a burn – but we figured amongst those are a gnome (gnome-bites all over, you remember?) and some water-creature like a Lobalug (near drowning and poison). Hermione says a counter-ritual to control magic would have to be kind of parallel to the first ritual, meaning: you have to collect stuff that would fit into the elements' categories as well._

 

Harry looked at Severus and pursed his lips as his mind was racing. "Is he right? Do we need magic creatures or parts of them for the ritual?"

Severus took the letter and re-read it, and then he slowly nodded. "But I wager it can't just be random creatures that have to do with water, fire, earth, and air. Rather, it sounds like we should consider the nature of the elements and the beasts, then compare those with the spells and potions we will use and make our decision based on that."

"What spells and potions? We don't have any clue about those!" Harry cried and buried his head in his hands. How could it possible that the second they saw a ray of sunlight in this pit of shit, something new, equally stinky, would pile up on them?

"But this," Severus held up another page, one that held George's rambling on the rituals and spells that he found, complete with drawings and ink smudges, "will hopefully solve that particular puzzle. Because Ms Granger is correct to assume that the ritual, the spells and the potions used will have to sport a certain parallelism."

"You think you can figure out what they did?"

"I will know once I'm done studying what Mr Weasley sent us."

 

******

 

Harry fell asleep while waiting for Severus to come up with something and woke up hours later, his left cheek pressed against the cool window. He had a cramp in his neck that certainly didn't help his overall condition and felt the need for another dose of painkillers – which he wouldn't take because they made him woozy.

He stretched and winced in quick succession before he turned towards Severus, who was staring out the window. The letter was lying on Severus' lap and Harry could see that Severus had made some notes next to Harry's friends' lines. Before Harry could ask about those, though, Severus started talking. "Have you ever thought about what is needed to perform a ritual?"

"A spell, I guess, certain objects and locations. Stuff like blood in a potion," Harry said with a shrug and thought back to that night on the graveyard, when Voldemort had taken the bones of his father, Wormtail's hand and Harry's blood and put all of that in the potion that had restored him.

"Yes, all of that is true. But often enough certain objects are used to channel one's magic and strengthen or lead it. I believe that the Lobalug and the gnome, which Mr Weasley mentioned, were used like that. Additionally, nothing used in a ritual – be it in the form of those objects, a spell or ingredients used in a potion – is arbitrary. Especially in a ritual as powerful as one to release the bindings on magic, everything would have to be precisely attuned to the idea behind the ritual and behind its construction. Take the Lobalug, for example. It does not only symbolise water, but also poison and danger, because the creature is poisonous. Lobalug poison is used in potions, but it is extremely volatile –"

"Just like magic is, when it isn't controlled."

"Exactly."

"What about the gnome then? I guess it stands for earth, but what about it symbolises anything that is of importance for a ritual?" Harry asked and rubbed his eyes sleepily.

"It could be a symbol for wizards and witches, but a gnome's bite, for example, is also slightly poisonous. Additionally, it represents a certain aspect of manual labour, of action and wildness, as gnomes are largely driven by instinct."

"Alright, I get it. They used creatures that would represent danger, poison, wildness and things of the like as a stand-in for magic that isn't harnessed and is completely arbitrary and out of control."

"Precisely." Severus seemed to be pleased, like a teacher whose pupil had finally grasped a very complicated subject. Harry wondered why he hadn't applied those methods and that kind of pride during his time at Hogwarts, but was wise enough not to ask.

"And if we perform a ritual to control magic, we will need creatures or parts of creatures," The thought of having to kill a magical beast or having to chop some part of them off made Harry feel queasy and he paused for a second to take a breath. "Which represent control." He thought for a moment. "Domesticated animals then?"

Severus shook his head. "Not quite. We don't want magic to turn docile. Think less like familiars, but more common in a wizard's everyday life." Severus shot Harry a look. "And, Potter, think less bloody."

It was weird how well Severus knew him, but that didn't keep Harry for sending a grateful smile his way. "Alright." He stared at Severus and tried to imagine what an ordinary day in _his_ life looked like. Get up, have a cup of tea – dash of lime (not lemon), no sugar, no milk – before even considering food, prepare some potions, chop up some Flobberworms, open the shop, brew some more around lunchtime, then minding the shop some more before he closed up in the late afternoon, shower, dinner and bed with a book. Secretly, Harry insinuated his own post-lunch visit and, thinking back to their heated kiss only the night before, he even dared to sneak in a fantasy of him waiting in bed for Severus instead of the book. Not that he dared to say this out loud.

"Well?"

Harry jerked and cleared his throat, quickly replayed the day again. "Flobberworms!" he all but shouted. Severus blinked slowly, but said nothing. "They represent earth, are common in everyday life – they are used in many potions and if we take one, they become a part of us, kind of." At the thought Harry made a face. He had used so many potions already, but had never really considered Flobberworms like this. He wasn't sure if he actually ever wanted to do that again, either.

"A base for potions, for something magical." Severus nodded and gave him a nod. "Very good, Potter. You are useful, after all."

"Harry."

Severus gave a big yawn. "Fine. Harry. Now, let me kip for an hour before I give you quick driving lesson. I've had enough of being the one behind the wheel." Before Harry had the chance to protest, Severus had leaned back his seat – 'I didn't even know these seats could do that!' Harry thought and rubbed his sore neck again – and had started snoring softly.

 

******

 

Harry had never thought driving could be this terrifying, but three hours after Severus had made his declaration Harry was gripping the wheel hard enough for his knuckles to be stark white. His shirt stuck to his sweaty skin and he barely dared to blink. Which was hard, anyway, thanks to his black eye. He would have stopped the car, had it not been for the fact that he didn't quite know how to do that without killing the engine completely. Besides, they needed to get going and Severus had claimed that the mostly empty country roads were the perfect place to learn how to drive.

Dean had once compared driving to flying but he _clearly had no clue_ about any of this. A broom Harry could steer. It wasn't really a transportation device, but rather an addition to his body, a part of him. The car, on the other hand, seemed to have a mind of its own. The road was influencing its every move, the wind pressed against its sides, making it go this or that way and Harry was sure that the engine was working against him. Plus, he felt small behind the wheel, like a child that had snuck into his father's car to play.

Severus didn't seem to mind Harry's panic, though, as he was sound asleep. Harry really thought it was best. Between the both of them they hadn't really gotten much sleep lately, and Severus had surely gotten less what with him driving. It was only fair that it was Harry's turn now – but that didn't mean he had to like it. He wasn't sure how much sleep they'd get in the days coming either. He just had that feeling that David and his goons had just started hunting them and they were not to be taken lightly. No matter what magic was like, they knew what they were doing and were therefore highly dangerous. Harry really didn't look forward to meeting them again.

 

******

 

Two days had passed since Harry had learned how to drive and Severus had figured out the structure of the ritual. After what had happened in the tombs, they had all but abandoned the idea of searching for the next places their opponents might pull a heist at. They had slept in the car, wanting and needing to keep mobile and had started looking for mythical beasts to use for a counter-ritual, but apart from the Flobberworms that could be found in most woods if one knew what to look for, they hadn't had any luck.

During the nights, Harry snuggled close to Severus in hopes that their closeness would lead to at least a repeat kiss, but when Harry woke up, Severus' head was resting against the far side of the window and whatever closeness they had shared was gone. Harry's resolve to let things develop naturally and only help the process move along was crumbling and he wasn't quite sure just how long he could keep himself from jumping and humping Severus. After all, their attraction was mutual and the only thing keeping them apart was Severus' falsely set sense of decorum. Nobody would care if they were dating. Sure, most people Harry knew would be a bit surprised, but Harry had been out and proud for a while now. Besides, the notoriety of his Boy-Who-Lived-Twice status had waned. People were still curious about him and at least once a year the _Daily Prophet_ published a feature about him, but that was it, for the most part. Besides, with all the shit that was going on at that moment, who would even care if Harry and Severus shagged?

Not that there was much of a chance of that happening at the moment, Harry thought morosely as he peed against a tree. The last time he'd had a shower had been on the Isle of Arran and since then they had trudged through marshes and forests in hope to find a sylph or a kelpie. But neither the air-spirit whom they wanted to ask for a lock of hair nor the water-beast could be found. What Harry got for his troubles, though, was the same unruly, wrecked look he'd had when Hermione, Ron and he had camped out in the woods for ages: he was desperately in need of a shower and a shave. At least back in the tent they had had functioning magic to keep the rankness away (though no spell could do the job of a proper shower).

Harry shook his prick then zipped up and washed his hands with disinfectant gel he'd bought at a petrol station. He ran his left hand over his cheeks and chin – stubbly, probably close to a caveman beard – and tried to comb his hair with his fingers as well as possible. It wasn't really of any use. A quick sniff of his armpits hardened his suspicions; this way he'd never get any romance from Severus. Thoroughly unhappy, Harry turned and made his way towards the car again.

He and Severus had both gone into the woods to take care of their business, leaving the car to fend for itself. Out here in the wilderness there wasn't really much of a chance for someone to stumble across and steal the bloody monster anyway. By separating, they would also be able to cover more ground and check for signs of magical beings dwelling around these parts, Severus had said, but Harry hadn't found any. They'd meet up at the car, they had agreed, and would continue driving soon after. If they were lucky they wouldn't have to stop until the afternoon – they still had enough crackers and muesli bars to last them through the day.

Looking left and right for suspicious things like silvery fine hair or cobwebs that looked too much like art to have been woven by spiders – and finding only mushrooms, moss and rotting wood (a smell that was filling Harry's nose and made it tingle with something he couldn't describe) – Harry stumbled onwards. A weird feeling took hold of the pit of his stomach and made Harry falter, but only briefly. The need to leave the place became stronger and he quickened his step. It was as if something was lurking, something bad was coming. Harry pushed that thought away and blamed the fitful sleep and the lack of sex in his life. The car wasn't far now and everything would be all right soon. He could even drive more or less properly now and didn't fear crashing into something any second. Then, suddenly, he stopped as he realised that something _really_ wasn't right. It was as if the whole forest was holding its breath, waiting for something big and terrible. Harry swallowed and looked around. He tingled all over, magic soaring through him – magic he hadn't felt in a while and that he hadn't dared to look for, registering something.

He had just decided to hurry to the car when it got dark. A quick look to the morning sky confirmed his suspicions – no storm could draw up that fast, at least not in this region. "Bloody fucking shit." He started running then, straight and onwards, towards the car. Light flashed through the sky and in the back of his mind, somewhere near the voice he thought he could hear chanting, he remembered his primary school teacher telling him not to stand beneath beech trees during a thunderstorm. Through the trees he could see the weird green of the car and he broke through and into the open before he even realised that it might not be the best idea to offer himself up as a target. Severus was nowhere in sight. A flash of lightning hit the ground only a couple of feet away from him. Cursing again, Harry sprinted to the car and threw himself into the front seat behind the wheel.

"Where are you? Where the fuck _are_ you?!" he shouted over the rolling thunder and prayed to whatever deity might listen that Severus was all right and that a car really worked as a Faraday cage (primary school education again). Realising that he still had the car key, he jammed it into the lock and turned on the car. No fuck-ups now. The engine howled, but Harry didn't dare to drive and go look for Severus – Severus might exit the forest here and he might not find him again if he left. He just had to trust Severus' ability to find his way – and if Severus couldn't, who would? He sure as hell wouldn't leave Severus behind. More and more lightning struck the ground around the car.

Then he saw the figure in the rear-view mirror and he knew without a doubt that it was the man he could hear chanting in his mind, that none of it was imagined, that someone really used the ancient, chaotic magic to his advantage. One of David's people; that much was clear. Who else would have the knowledge and – most likely – the time to prepare for casting during times like this? The chanting got louder and Harry knew that he had to -

Severus broke from the tree line and Harry reached over, opened the door as quickly as he could. Severus threw himself into the car and Harry shoved his foot onto the gas pedal, causing the car to speed off with screeching tires. Lightning hit the car, making it shudder and sizzle, but it kept on going and soon they had left the forest and the storm behind them.

 

******

 

Harry allowed himself to finally breathe normally again once they had driven a good thirty miles. "I can't say that I enjoyed that," he mumbled and earned himself a snort from Severus. "Are you alright?"

"Well, I haven't been struck by lightning, if that's what you're asking."

Harry cast a look at Severus – he looked nearly as dishevelled as Harry and slightly paler than usual – and couldn't help himself. He took his hand from the stick shift and placed it on Severus', interlacing their fingers. He heard Severus inhaling sharply, but their hands stayed where they were. Severus cleared his throat. "I had been following what could have been a trail to a kelpie pond – just a trickle of water, really, but there were algae growing higher up a tree trunk than usual."

"That's when the sky turned dark?"

Severus nodded, then watched the road behind them through the mirror for a while. They were alone. "I suspect you felt the same thing I felt?"

"Magic and some sort ritual causing it? Yes. And I heard a voice chanting."

"It wasn't a ritual per se, but rather the magic of nature being channelled with ancient means. I had read about this, but wasn't stupid enough to try."

"Stupid? Seems like the guy knew what he was doing and it worked to his advantage."

"It did," Severus said and paused for some seconds. "But we escaped."

"But for how long? They seem to find us wherever we go and that surely isn't right. We need to hurry and turn magic back to normal."

"If only it was that easy."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I know it's not easy, but that's just how it is. And we could do with some weapons apart from my candlestick and your hammer."

"Where do you suggest we get them, then? I don't suspect you know any arms dealers in the sodding neverland of northern Scotland?"

Harry chose to ignore that. For the first time during their fucked-up trip he wished Ron could be with them. Harry didn't have Ron's penchant for coming up with well-structured plans and they could really use one of those right now. One that was a little more elaborate than 'find ingredients, wait for Severus to come up with a potion and rescue the world'. It was a good plan, surely, but it seriously lacked the finer points. He'd always thought Severus would be equally good at making plans, but it seemed that, in the midst of chaos and without magic, he was almost – almost – as hopeless as Harry himself.

 

******

 

As evening closed in on them, they were lucky enough to find an empty barn. The farm it belonged to was in ruins – leftovers from what seemed to have been a fire – but the barn, ramshackle as it was, was steady enough for them to camp in. Harry opened one of the huge barn doors and Severus parked the car inside. It would give them at least some cover from curious and dangerous eyes.

Inside, Harry found a bit of dry straw and put their blankets on top. Anything was better than not being able to stretch out properly inside the car. The fact that Severus didn't pull a face at seeing their new bedstead told Harry that he was thinking along the same lines. When Harry came back to the car, Severus had spread out a map of Scotland on the hood and was bent over it.

"You see anything of interest?"

"I'm trying to find possible locations for kelpie and sylph dwellings."

Harry leant against the car, tilted his head back and closed his eyes. "What about the Flobberworms? And the fire elemental?"

"Flobberworms are easy. Next time we find some, I'll collect them in a glass. With some leaves and moss they should be fine for a couple of days." Eyes still closed, Harry heard Severus light a candle and shut off the engine and the car's headlights. The barn got darker. "As for the fire elemental, I thought a salamander should do perfectly fine."

"Where do we get one?" Harry asked and yawned.

"Have you not paid any attention in school? Oh, never mind, I temporarily forgot who I'm talking to. Salamanders dwell in fireplaces—lit ones, at that."

"Meaning they'll die when not within fire?"

"After a short while, yes," Severus conceded. "I have not yet decided whether or not we will need a live specimen or if a dead one would suffice, but acquiring a salamander should not be much of a problem."

Harry nodded. He was tired, couldn't keep his thoughts on topic. Images of their interlinked fingers ghosted through his mind, the memory of Severus' lips on his – soft and yet demanding – made him tingle. He wouldn't let that go and wouldn't let Severus forget about that either, he decided. He pushed himself away from the car as he opened his eyes and moved to stand next to Severus. "Let's do that tomorrow," he said and pointed at the map. "Let's get some sleep while we still can."

Severus looked like he was about to protest, but then he stood and stretched. Before he could move towards the makeshift bed, Harry put his hand on Severus' arm. He moved slowly, pulled Severus close, his other hand tugging Severus' head down as he titled his head and stretched up. When their lips met a noise of need and finally-oh-my-god-finally escaped Harry. It was perfection – stubble, grime and the taste of coffee included.

Harry pulled Severus closer and their kiss grew more heated. Then Severus' hand was on Harry's arse and all thoughts – everything from the ritual down to sleep – went from his head. With a moan, Harry tore his lips from Severus' only to bite-lick-suck-kiss down Severus' jaw to where his pulse beat fast against the skin on his neck. There were so many buttons, so much –

Severus pushed him away and pulled Harry's shirt over his head, then drew him close again, hands on Harry's arse, his back, everywhere. Harry put his arms around Severus' neck, needing more, needing to feel his tongue and – God – so much more.

"This needs to go," he gasped as he tugged at Severus' shirt. Severus nodded, stepped back and undressed quicker than Harry had ever thought possible. It was only then that they, bare-chested, pulses and breaths going fast, looked each other in the eye. For a second Harry feared Severus would back out, that the magnitude of what they were about to do would scare him off, but then Severus' lips were on his again and they were stumbling towards their makeshift bed. Shoes and trousers off, pants and socks off, and then it was only them and sweat and skin.

The straw poked at Harry's back, but he didn't care. Severus' prick pressed against his leg and all he could think about was how much he wanted it in him. How much he just _wanted_.

"You got lube?" he breathed against Severus' cheek as Severus' hand wandered down Harry's arm to hit hip. Severus shook his head. "Fuck." No matter, they would make do somehow.

Kissing again, they moved until their cocks aligned and Harry reached between them, taking both in his hand. He ran his thumb through their precome and started moving his hand. They groaned in unison and Harry knew he wouldn't last long, especially not when Severus' hand joined his.

"Oh God, yes!"

Teeth grazed Harry's chin, Severus' tongue licked a path from his jaw to the spot behind his ear. "Fuck, Harry." Then there was a finger in Harry's mouth and Harry sucked, mewling around it, only for it to get to pulled out and pushed up against his hole. He gasped as it penetrated him, immediately pictured what it would be like to have Severus' dick inside him, and then the finger touched his prostate and tipped Harry over the edge. He screamed and bucked up against Severus as he came and Severus continued thrusting and moving his hand and then a guttural moan broke free from his throat as he spilled all over Harry's stomach and chest.

They slumped together, sticky and tired and utterly spent. Already half asleep, Harry pulled the other blanket close and covered them, then kissed Severus' shoulder and closed his eyes. He fell asleep with a smile on his face.

 

******

 

The next morning began without tea or coffee, but with another sodding muesli bar for breakfast and with a fight.

"You want to _what_? Cast a spell? Are you mental?!"

"If they can do it, why shouldn't we?!" Harry cried, but Severus continued to look doubtful. "Come on! You know it's doable. We've _seen_ that it is!" Harry fumbled in his pockets and drew his wand.

"I'm hardly powerful enough to cast and control my magic." Severus crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Oh, that's bollocks and you know it!" Harry ran a hand through his hair, pulled a bit and let go before he did any damage. "You are bloody powerful – and don't pretend you're not."

"Not as powerful as you are."

"So? Neither was that other bloke. The one who _nearly fried us_."

"Potter."

Harry ignored the use of his surname and went on: "You've got to try! And you've got to help me – no one else can. Besides, you taught me more than any other of my teachers and –"

Severus smashed his fist on the hood of the car, causing Harry to jump. "I can't!"

"What?"

"Don't you see? I killed a man by using my magic in this state."

"But," Harry swallowed. "But that was an accident."

"Yes. But who's going to say that this won't happen again?"

"Not if you learn to control it."

"Potter. Harry. The whole point of the expression 'ancient magic' is that it cannot be controlled. It's wild, dangerous and unpredictable. Only that thrice-damned ritual can help us to control magic."

"We can achieve a certain amount of control, like that bloke." Harry looked Severus in the eyes, long and hard. "And I'm going to try it, whether or not you're helping me." Harry moved towards the door. He would try casting outside, since there was a lesser chance that he would destroy anything. The barn wasn't much to write home about in the first place and he didn't accidentally want to blow the roof off. "Besides," he added, "We'll need some magic to get the ritual started in the first place."

Severus sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. "I'll come with, but only to observe you setting yourself on fire."

"Then keep some water ready to put out the flames, at least."

 

******

 

Wand in hand, Harry stood on what formerly might have been a sheep-run and waited. For what he wasn't quite sure. A surge of bravery perhaps, a sign of some sort. He stared at his hand, then at his feet and out at the tree line that was farther off. Last time he had tried this, he remembered, he'd been thrown against a wall. Last time Severus had cast a spell, he'd killed someone to save Harry. A little voice, one that sounded like a combination of McGonagall, Malfoy and Hermione, told him not to do it, not to risk something like this. But no. He had to. It was worth it. And he had meant it when he had told Severus that they needed magic for the ritual to turn things back to normal. If they didn't, Muggles would set off rituals accidentally all the time, what with that new-agey shit being everywhere. And being magical alone wouldn't suffice, either. In his mind, Harry compared the ritual – whatever it might be like – to the opening of the Chamber of Secrets. You needed to be magical, but you also needed to do the right things – speak Parseltongue – to get it to open. And even if no specific spell was needed for the ritual to work, they would still have to channel their magic and pour it into the symbol, into the elements and into whatever they'd be working with.

"Well?"

"Don't be so pushy."

Harry raised his wand again. Something easy. A Lumos spell, a light one, carefully cast and worded, springing from the tip of his wand and – Suddenly a tiny ball of light grew out of the tip of his wand, slowly growing bigger. Harry stared and barely heard Severus' gasp.

"How did you manage to achieve that? Whenever I tried to teach you non-verbal spells you failed spectacularly."

"I did," Harry breathed. "I'm still pants at those." Yet there was a ball of light dancing right in front of him. He wondered if he could make it move and almost immediately the ball started turning, then jumping, dancing. "Holy..." Laughter, astonished, wonderful laughter, bubbled up from Harry's stomach and broke free. "Just look at that!"

"I am."

On a whim Harry thought about extinguishing the light and the ball vanished immediately. Now if he tried casting the same spell again – He hesitated. "Turn around," he told Severus, who complied silently after staring Harry down for some seconds. Harry used the moment to give Severus' arse a good look, then squinted into the other direction and clearly said, "Lumos."

The flash of light that shot from his hand killed a bush of wild roses near the tree line. "Fuck." Harry tried blinking away the flecks of light and dark in his vision. "That was bright."

"Did you set something on fire?"

Harry cleared his throat. "Well. Kind of." He heard and half saw Severus turn around. "A tip: casting verbally might be a really bad idea."

"Casting stronger spells as well." Severus grabbed Harry's shoulders and frog-marched him back into the barn where he sat him on the left front seat of the car. "Let me see your eyes."

"I'm all right." Harry waved Severus away. "But thanks. I just need a couple of minutes for my eyes to get back to their normal bad state."

Severus snorted, but his tone quickly turned serious. "Harry, Lumos might be alright to cast like that, but other spells that are more dangerous, spells that aren't as wand-bound as Lumos, might react completely differently."

Harry nodded slowly. He had learned enough magical theory in his studies to become a Healer to know that Severus was right. "I won't try anything, I promise. But now we know that channelling our magic through our wand works. Amplifies it, even."

"It seems like it does, but I suspect that using a wand might also make magic more susceptible to the chaotic side of magic."

"But you have more control with a wand. That's why wizards and witches are given wands – to channel their innate magic with it and steer it, form it with spells."

"With magic that is reined in, yes. Most witches and wizards wouldn't be able to cast anything without their wands. You should know – after all you're an expert in disarming spells, are you not?" The dots nearly gone now, Harry looked at the ground and shrugged. There had been endless talks about that topic and he had no interest in warming those up now. "I suspect that a wand, because it was not commonly used around the time when the ritual to control magic was first used, makes the unpredictable magic even more unpredictable."

"Then we'll do wandless casting," Harry said and got up. Time to pack up again and leave this place. Staying mobile would hopefully keep them from having to deal with an aggressive thunderstorm again.

 

******

 

The day they found the kelpie, Harry finally got his long-awaited bath. He remembered from his days at Hogwarts that Hagrid really liked kelpies and that he would have kept them as pets, had they not been water-dwelling beasts. That alone told him how dangerous kelpies really were. Severus told him everything he knew about them and Harry recalled again that one of their opponents had nearly drowned getting poisoned by a Lobalug. It wasn't the same, of course, but since kelpies liked to bind humans to their backs with their manes and tried to drown them if they were stupid enough to try and ride them.

They'd gone to the lake by chance – several had been in the area, so they had decided to go for the most western one first and work their way eastward. As soon as they'd left the car, Severus had pointed at something in the mud that he explained were kelpie droppings. Other beasts collected it near the water and used it ward off their own areas against more dangerous animals.

There was no question as to who would go into the water. Harry's ability to swim hadn't much improved since he'd fought for the Goblet of Fire, but he could hold his breath for a good long while. He told Snape the same, tongue in cheek, and saw the glint in his eyes.

"Remember, we only need some hoof shavings. They have to be good and thick or they'll swim away."

Harry looked at the knife in his hand and wished – once again – that his wand would work the way it was supposed to. When had he become so dependant on magic, anyway? He'd always thought of himself as someone who could do things the Muggle way – now he finally understood why everyone else called it the hard way. The sucky way. Him cooking his dinner by hand, with an oven, with a stove, cutting the vegetables with a knife and not by magic, stirring, waiting... he had thought that counted for something. But as he was looking at the knife in his hand now, he knew that it didn't make a difference. He still had to dive into a bloody freezing lake in bloody Scotland and had to wrestle with a kelpie to convince it that it really did need a pedicure.

Taking a deep breath, he chucked off his trousers and shirt and stood there in his skivvies. Severus had seen him in those before – exactly in those, but that was the problem. He hoped they didn't look to bad, but didn't dare to check. "Tell me again why I'm doing this." Severus just gave him a look. "Yeah, yeah, saving the bloody world again. If I get bloody pneumonia, you'll have to nurse me back to health." He didn't give Severus a chance to reply before he started running into the lake.

The ground was muddy and cold beneath his feet and dropped quickly. Harry took a deep breath and dove. The cold nearly knocked all air out of his lungs, but he managed to keep it in and keep diving. Down, down... He didn't have to wait long for the kelpie to appear for they were attracted to everyone who dared to come near their realm like whales to a wounded seal. The kelpie, horse-like and beautiful here within its element, circled Harry curiously, looking at him with more intelligence than he had imagined it would have. He wanted to show it that he wasn't dangerous, that he came in peace, and lifted his hands. But as soon as the kelpie saw the knife in his hand, it whinnied at a nearly ear-piercing frequency and started toward him. Harry shook his head, put the heft of the knife between his teeth and stretched out his hands in order to keep the beast from charging at him. But the kelpie was undeterred and Harry only just could escape its huge, unnaturally sharp teeth.

Harry's throat clenched and his lungs burned – he had no choice but to swim to the surface, no matter what the kelpie was doing. He gasped for air, but gave himself no time to dwell there and dove down again, knife back between his teeth. He swam towards the beast this time and it seemed to have calmed down a bit, for it began circling with Harry. How could he make it understand that he didn't want any harm? If only he could speak Mermish or any other kind of language that the beast understood. Though he doubted the kelpie had much human contact.

Nearly throwing the next thought out as ludicrous, Harry thought maybe thinking the word 'friend' couldn't hurt. But then again he didn't really have any better ideas and so he thought about friends and friendship and slowly swam toward the beast. This time, it didn't move but watched him with suspicion in its eyes. Harry moved toward the hind hoof and took the knife into his hand. The kelpie whinnied again, but kept still as Harry tried broadcasting 'Friend! Friend! Friend!' via his thoughts. He put the knife to the hoof that was softer than he had expected, softer than a normal horse's hoof anyway, and shaved off a good slice. He moved away quickly and none too soon because the kelpie had had enough of that funny business, kicked back and sped away.

Harry swam back to the surface as fast as he could, gasping desperately for air. He barely had enough power left in his limbs to swim towards the shore of the lake where Severus pulled him out of the water and swaddled him into a blanket. Worry was etched in Severus' face. Harry attempted a smile and failed as a hard cough took over. After it had passed Harry handed Severus the shaving and the knife, waited for it to be stowed away until he leant tiredly against Severus and said: "I'm all right."

 

******

 

Harry woke up shivering and found Severus bent over a notebook in the light of an electric torch. "What are you doing?" he asked groggily and pulled the blanket more snugly around himself.

Severus looked up briefly, then his attention was back on the paper. "I'm working on a potion."

"Really?" The word was more a yawn than anything else. "You think it will work, what with magic being all wonky? I mean, you said taking potions wasn't exactly safe."

"Yes, really. I don't think we have any other option than try and find out. Though I intend to keep my wand far away while brewing. And as I won't be ingesting the potion, I will hopefully be fine." Severus flexed his fingers and pointed at the notebook. "I have been studying the ingredients that were bought at my shop and have compared them with ritual Weasley one, two and Ms Granger found."

"It'd be easier if you just called them by their given names."

"Easier perhaps, but I would feel completely uncomfortable. Besides, I don't take liberties with them that I don't want them to return."

Harry rubbed his eyes and sat up a little straighter. "You mean you'd be against them using your given name once everything is back to normal? I mean, they are my friends."

"Your point being?"

"Well, what with you and me -"

"What about you and me?"

Harry seriously had to keep himself from punching Severus' shoulder. Not that it wouldn't be satisfying, but he doubted he'd ever get laid again that way. "You and me as in a couple as in together as in love and sex and kissing." There, he'd said it out loud, all grown up. It seemed to shut Severus up, too – now he only had to do something to keep him from saying something stupid. And, as Severus opened his mouth in what probably was a protest, Harry quickly moved forward and kissed him. And Severus kissed back – tongue-battling, hand clenching in Harry's hair and all. As they broke apart Harry smiled and ignored Severus telling him that he had morning breath – especially because it wasn't even morning. "Tell me more about the potion." There, crisis averted.

Severus gave him a long look, but let the topic drop. "Basically, I've tried to restore the potion our opponents have created to, in turn, develop a counteractive potion. Unlike the ritual, where we are substituting their elements with less violent equivalents, the potion will be counteractive in a sense that the whole potion needs to work against the chaotic influences. This means that I will have to use ingredients that are used to make potions with calming effects of something of the sort."

Harry frowned and was on the verge of asking a question, but Severus, now in professor-mode, clearly didn't value interruptions any more than he had back at Hogwarts. Harry kept his mouth shut.

"Of course I cannot simply throw together all ingredients used in potions of that quality. Rather, I will have to gauge causes and effects, think about ratios, brewing times and stir motions and how they will affect the potion."

"You're inventing something completely new."

"I cannot tell if the potion I am working on has once been used for the ritual we will be attempting. I cannot even guarantee that it will work in exactly the same way or that magic will be exactly the same. All I can say is that I will do my best and that it will work, in the end."

"You guarantee that?"

"No."

Harry nodded slowly. He – and everyone else – would take what they got. He trusted Severus, trusted his abilities, and Harry was sure that if Severus created the potion, the potion would work. Whether the ritual itself would, time could only tell. With a sigh he moved around, then put his head onto Severus' lap and fell asleep again.

 

******

 

"Do you remember what Mr Weasley wrote?"

"Which Weasley?"

Severus rolled his eyes, but obliged anyway: "George Weasley."

"The bit about the rituals?" Harry shrugged. "Yes. He found some that, combined, could make up what David and his people used."

Severus nodded. "Indeed. I think I managed to combine the ritualistic potions into one that was most likely used."

"Most likely?"

"I can never be completely sure without interrogating their potions master. Though he might have made alterations to the intended potion without knowing that he did, if he is not as skilled as I am."

Harry pursed his lips in amusement, but ignored the self-praise. "Are you going to give me the whole potion description now?"

"Hardly. I doubt you'd understand it."

Harry pushed Severus' shoulder and huffed, but didn't argue. Severus was probably right. Harry had a good enough understanding of potions to master his profession, but he was far from a potions master. "Well?"

"Basically, the potion they might have employed used ingredients to make the outcome especially volatile. They needed this to achieve their goal of making magic wild again."

"What ingredients could they have used then?"

"Blood squeezed from a Red Cap's hat to increase bloodlust. Chopped Devil's snare. Yew seeds, because they are connected to death and eternity. And Deadly Nightshade, because in the Dark Ages it was rumoured to help witches fly. In fact, its properties are much darker than that."

"And you found ingredients for the potion to counter the effects?"

Severus nodded. "Verbena to repel demonic illness and bewitchment, mugwort –"

"Because it's magically protective."

Severus gave him a little appreciative lip-twitch. "And finally Murtlap for resistance and chamomile to calm things down."

"Is that all?"

"That's just the gist. The real potion is much too advanced to just explain it like that." Severus held out a piece of paper. "These are the ingredients we will need."

The list wasn't exactly short, but Harry was quite convinced that was he was looking at was the simplest part of the brewing process – and, eventually, the ritual. "All right. Where do we start?"

 

******

 

The problem of acquiring the ingredients proved to be a little more challenging than Harry had thought. Some, Severus could collect out in the wild. He knew where which plants grew, where he could find more Flobberworms and the like. Others, like powdered Graphorn horn and mugwort, he could not get on such short notice, because he could only pluck and collect those during certain times of the year or certain phases of the moon. Or, in case of the Graphorn horn, they had to wrestle a magical creature first. They had done enough of that already and they certainly couldn't wait for the right time to harvest the rest – they had to finish the potion as quickly as possible and perform the ritual, before things got even worse in their world. With wizards and witches in a frenzy, Muggles were close to noticing that a whole different world co-existed with theirs, within their cities and villages, and Harry and Severus just knew that this particular discovery would not go over well. Humans panicked easily if they saw their lives and lifestyle threatened and to have such powerful people, who could do almost anything with the wave of a wand, would make them more than just afraid. Fear made people dangerous and even wizards couldn't evade knives and guns and tanks forever. A war would wreak even more havoc on both worlds than the ancient magic already had. They absolutely had to prevent a second Inquisition.

This left Severus and Harry with little choice but to go back to a wizarding district and acquire the ingredients in a potions shop. What they needed was rare enough for the ingredients to be in stock, even in times like these. Little had they counted on the possibility that David would send his goons to be on the lookout for Harry and Severus.

Yet, when Harry and Severus turned around a corner, carefully avoiding rubble on the nearly empty street – evidence of explosions similar to what they had seen in Diagon Alley – there they were. The brutish man and the one Harry suspected had called on the thunderstorm. Harry and Severus whipped back behind the corner just in time.

For a moment they stared – first at each other and then sneaking looks around the corner – then Harry jumped into action. He took his Invisibility cloak from the backpack he was carrying and threw it around his shoulders so that only his head and a hand that he held out towards Severus peeked out. "Give me the list," Harry said and wiggled his fingers. Severus did so without protest, but said, "Take care that you get good powdered Graphorn horn. No brown spots. And they absolutely have to have flecks bigger than a millimetre; otherwise they carry only a fraction of the magical properties they are supposed to have."

Harry nodded, then let the rest of him vanish beneath the cloak and set off for the store. They could count themselves lucky that it was still open despite the situation. Not that a closed door would have kept them from getting the ingredients – the situation was too delicate, too important to be worried about a break-in (it wouldn't even be their first). Maybe that was the reason why the goons were waiting here for them.

Harry crept forward as quietly as he could, all the while wondering how to open the door and get through it without the two goons noticing. He needn't have worried, because once he was close enough a massive ruckus started further down the streets, the goons turned and Harry slipped through the door. Thank heavens for Severus' abilities for distraction.

"If you came here to steal, you'll find out just how effective Muggle weapons are against thieves," a voice behind Harry snarled and he whirled around only to find himself at the end of a very old-looking gun. He forced himself to look further and found a woman with a battered face and an eye that looked disturbingly similar to the one Mad-Eye Moody used to have. He wondered if they were produced in bulk by now, because he was sure he kept the original in his vault. It would explain why she could see him.

"I have money." Harry swallowed. "I mean, I'm a normal customer. With money. And the intent to pay."

The woman huffed, but slowly lowered her gun. "My usual customers don't wear clothes that conceal them. Masks, maybe, but nothing to make them _invisible_ to the normal human eye."

"Let's just say I'm a customer who prefers that certain people don't see him," Harry said and tried a winning smile. He left on the cloak, though. After all, the lady could see him well enough and if it kept him safe in case one of the goons came in, keeping it on would be more than justified.

The woman huffed again, put the gun under the counter and motioned for Harry to come closer. "What do you need then, invisible man?"

"Powdered Graphorn horn, one hundred and twelve grammes. And mugwort, if you have it."

"Sure I have it. Not a lot, though, because a lot of potion-inclined people buy the stuff in hopes it will protect them from this madness."

"And will it?"

"The mugwort alone?" She snorted. "Hardly. Besides, huddling around in corners and waiting for something to happen isn't going to help anyone." She took out two huge glass bottles with wide necks – one was filled with a fine powder, no brown flecks in sight, the other with a little bit of dried mugwort. After putting all the mugwort in a small paper bag, she carefully measured out the powdered Graphorn horn.

"What do you propose, then?"

"Adaptation." She gave a nod towards where she had put the gun. "If we can't change what is happening, we will have to adapt and make things work another way." She closed the little vial in which she had put the powder and put it into the bag as well. "That's four galleons and seven sickles."

Getting out was easier than Harry had thought. He peeked through the windows, saw that the goons' backs were turned – they were waiting for him to arrive, not to leave – and quickly slipped out the door. Harry made a little detour to avoid the goons as best as he could, then joined Severus again.

"I got everything," he said and tugged on Severus' sleeve, making him jump. To his credit Severus didn't train his wand on Harry, even though his wand hand twitched briefly, and nodded quickly. "Let's go."

 

******

 

They scraped together what Muggle money Harry had left (minus a couple of pounds they would need for food during the next days) and got a hotel for the night. The room, cheap as the hotel was, was a little drab and old-fashioned. Faded upholstery with what could have once been a flower-pattern, threadbare carpet and wood that showed signs of prolonged usage. But it was enough, Harry supposed, and fulfilled its purpose. It got them out of the car and gave them a proper bed to sleep in. Besides, no one would guess they were here.

Harry sat down on the bed and stared at the bathroom door. Inside, the shower was running. Immediately he pictured Severus beneath the spray: gloriously naked, hands pushing the wet hair back as he let the water flow over his face. Would he stand with his back to the door or would he face it? Did he use shampoo first or did he start with lathering his body?

Harry bit his lips. It had been days since they had had sex for the first time and since then they'd only kissed. He longed to touch Severus and longed to be fucked. He'd even sprung for lube at one of their stops on the way. But doubt was nagging, too. Maybe the only reason Severus wanted him because of their close proximity and of the direness of the situation. If so, if Severus wanted him purely for physical relief, Harry didn't know if he would be able to handle it. But, God, he wanted Severus so much!

Harry hung his head, grinned wryly and snorted. He had already made a decision without realising it. He should have known. Being a Gryffindor and all that. He pulled his socks and trousers off – his underwear and shirt went as he walked. His hands were shaking only slightly, as he entered the bathroom. Steam was everywhere, fogging up his glasses that he put on the sink before stepping up to the shower.

"Harry?"

"Yeah." He couldn't believe how husky his voice sounded. He pushed the curtain to the side and stepped into the shower, spray hitting his face, stomach and feet. Severus wasn't much more than a skin-coloured blur – but he was a naked blur and that made Harry's mouth water. He reached out to Severus and touched his shoulder, making him turn around. "Thought you could use some company."

Severus replied by pulling him into a kiss. Harry hardened instantly and Severus seemed to like it, too, seeing as his dick was poking Harry's stomach. Harry pressed a kiss against Severus' chest, then reached behind him and took the shampoo. He lathered both his hands, reached up and started massaging Severus' skull.

"And here I was thinking you wanted sex."

"You can still think?"

"Not for much longer." Severus bent down and licked the water that ran down Harry's face off of his mouth. Harry let go of the idea of slowly washing each other as foreplay.

"Fuck foreplay then." Severus made quick work of the shampoo in his hair. They'd barely gotten out of the shower when their mouths were already attached again, hands touching everywhere. "Fuck towels, too."

They stumbled back into the bedroom, made their way towards the bed. Harry pulled the lube from his trouser pocket before throwing his trousers on the floor.

"I see you come prepared." Harry detected a note of appreciation in Severus voice and he would have grinned proudly if the need to get fucked – finally – hadn't been as strong. He pulled Severus on top of him and they groaned as their cocks touched, but Severus moved down from his mouth quickly. Jaw, neck, chest – he stopped at Harry's nipples, flicked and sucked, made Harry grip the sheets, hard. He moved on to Harry's stomach, nipping and licking, down Harry's happy trail. And then he was gone.

Harry whined – loudly – and wasn't even ashamed to make a sound like that.

"Something you wanted?" Before Harry could answer a slippery finger pressed into his arse and Severus' lips were around his dick. His whine turned into a shout and when Severus chuckled around his dick; he had to bite his lip in order not to come. One finger became two, two became three and Harry grabbed Severus' arm. "Fuck me. Now."

Severus groaned and withdrew and Harry could hear him squeeze lube on his dick. Then he was pushing inside – "Oh fuck!" – and Harry's legs quivered as he tried to adjust. Fuck, it had been so long. Hands on Severus' back, Harry pulled him down until their lips met again, tongues slick against each other as Severus started to move. Their breaths and moans mingled and Severus' hips snapped back and forth. Harry met him thrust for thrust; legs around Severus' back pulling him in while Harry took his dick in his hand.

His orgasm came like an onslaught – hard and unexpected, rocking through Harry's body and making him cry out. Severus came only seconds afterwards.

 

A good while later, once Severus had rolled off of Harry and they both caught their breaths, Harry blinked up at the cracked ceiling. "Holy fuck."

"That was the idea," Severus mumbled from where his face was pressed into the pillow.

"We definitely need to do that again," Harry said and hoped that his rekindling apprehension couldn't be heard.

"Give me an hour. But you'll be on top this time and do all the work."

Harry gasped with amused disbelief. "Ride you?"

"Ride my dick until you scream. And by the way, it's a good thing we're only staying for the night. They would, without a doubt, evict us from the premises otherwise."

"Was I too loud?" Harry blushed, but looked at Severus all the same. A smirk greeted him.

"I didn't say that I minded."

 

******

 

At one point during the last couple of months, after Harry had realised that he had really fallen for Severus, Harry had entertained a certain fantasy. He had entertained several fantasies, to be exact, some which involved the two of them and no clothes, and some others that had more of a date-like quality. The particular fantasy, Harry couldn't help but remember now, took place in a forest. It was romantic; there were candles and lights in the trees, soft music and swaying (not dancing, because Harry couldn't dance, even in his own fantasies), and a picnic. The kind with Firewhiskey and lager, not the mushy, girly kind with sparkling wine and strawberries.

As they were walking through the woods– or stumbling rather – Harry felt slightly disappointed. This was nothing like his fantasy save the fact that both he and Severus were present. For one, there was nothing romantic about falling flat on his face after his ankle had been caught by a tree-root. Nor was there anything romantic about accidentally slapping Severus in the face with a very bouncy branch. Then there was the fact that they were looking for Sylphs, who were known to be extremely elusive. And, naturally, neither music nor alcohol was involved either.

If only the matter of the Sylph hairs could have been like it was with unicorn hair. But Sylph hair that could be used in potions didn't snag on branches – it needed to be given freely. Or to be taken, but not only was that extremely difficult, because Sylphs could defend themselves pretty well, it was also something Harry wouldn't even consider. It didn't keep him cursing the 'stupid bloody fucking Sylphs'.

"Yes, that will certainly make them join us."

Harry could practically hear how Severus rolled his eyes. It annoyed him and made him smile at the same time. And there was this weird fluttering feeling in his stomach again, the one that had been there for a couple of months now, the one that made him think of picnics in the woods. It was nearly enough to distract him from the tension in the air.

Harry suppressed the third yawn that night as he heard a faint tinkling. Amidst darkness, Harry turned to Severus and looked at his dark form questioningly. He could make out a nod and swallowed before he followed Severus westward.

The tinkling soon turned into unearthly music that was not played by instruments, not sung. Harry couldn't figure out what was causing it, but it definitely came from somewhere nearby. As they peeked through shrubs and bushes, Harry caught glimpses of ghostly blue figures, not really humanoid and not really like anything he'd ever seen. They were flying, dancing, but had no wings, yet the sound came from them. Harry smiled involuntarily. It had been a long time since he had seen anything this beautiful.

He didn't dare to talk, being too afraid that he might scare the Sylphs away. He turned his head to look at Severus, but found his spot empty. Instead, he spotted him closer towards the Sylphs, carefully and almost noiselessly pushing through lower branches. As he reached the clearing, Severus bowed low, as Harry had once done while facing Buckbeak, then showed them his empty hands before straightening up again. The Sylphs had stopped mid-motion and eyed him with interest. One tilted its head to the side and then Harry could hear the tinkling again. Watching Severus interact with the Sylphs was as if he was in the middle of a dream – everything but them suddenly seemed fuzzy, hazy and the scene itself seemed so unreal and so beautiful that Harry had to blink several times until he could believe what he was seeing. Being near the Sylphs, Severus had a beautiful quality to himself that Harry felt had always been there, only hidden. He knew, without a doubt, that it was this quality, suddenly visible, that had him fall in love with Severus all those months ago. He longed for the proper words to describe what he was seeing, but even if he had dared to speak he wouldn't have brought out a word across his dry tongue.

The Sylphs gave a couple more notes of their song and one extended some of her strands, almost feather-like, to Severus. He took them gently, then held them securely in his hands as the Sylphs vanished.

Silently, Harry joined him in the clearing, waited until Severus had placed the strands first in a small paper bag, then in his waistcoat. Harry touched Severus' hand, only brief and fleeting, and smiled up at him. They turned to leave.

 

They had driven about three quarters of a mile when another car appeared behind them and quickly gathered speed. Harry, first looking at it in the rear-view mirror out of curiosity, then turning around with increasing worry, cursed. Wordlessly, Severus put the pedal to the metal. The car behind them did the same, gained more and more speed until it pulled up next to them on the right lane. Two wands were trained at Harry and Severus, but they couldn't worry about that now. Chances for an effective spell with magic being as it was, and the conditions of speed and movement factored in, were slim. The knowledge didn't keep Harry's stomach from feeling like it was filled with lead.

Last time they had been this close to David and his goons and had actually fought them, someone had died. A brief look at Severus assured Harry that he was keeping his eyes on the road. Then Harry's attention went back to the man in the backseat of the BMW who was all but leaning out of the window. David. Harry hadn't been able to get a good look at him before in the tomb or at the petrol station, but it was clearly him. He didn't like what he saw; David's eyes were small and mean, like those Harry had seen on the Snatchers. Always out for their own gain, most of the time hoping they could hurt someone along the way.

"Give me the key!" David yelled.

"What the hell are you talking about?!" He had no key, didn't know what David was talking about.

"I know you stole it!"

"I didn't steal anything!"

"In the tomb! You stole it and now you are a dead man!"

Harry wanted to deny everything again, when Severus, without turning his head, quietly told him, "You took the candlestick."

Harry just stared at him. Had he actually managed to take what they had been after? It was just his luck that he hadn't even known about it. He had even thought about throwing the damn thing out, but had kept it because it made a better weapon than most things in the car. David's yelled profanities jerked him back to the present. Well, he wasn't going to give David what he wanted. After all, it could have the same significance as Horcruxes once had. Harry gave David a two-finger salute.

Milliseconds after, the other car swerved to the right before coming at them. Severus braked with screeching tires. The BMW missed them by inches.

"Fuck!" Harry shouted and rechecked the seatbelt that had squeezed the air from his lungs. He hoped the car had airbags, but highly doubted it.

Severus put the car into reverse and started to turn it around, but David's driver seemed to have seen that coming and made a sudden u-turn. Severus cursed, but managed to turn the car around and started racing in the direction from which they had come.

"We can't shake them!" Harry held onto the door handle for dear life as he looked behind them. The other car was gaining speed again and he knew for sure they wouldn't be able to out-race them. The BMW had too much horsepower.

"Get the map, see if there is any street going from this one."

Harry scrabbled for the battered map in the glove compartment and started looking through it as fast as he could. The roar of the BMW engine got louder, more threatening somehow, and they were closing in again. Not much longer and they'd start another attack. Then he found a street. "A mile down the road!"

Severus kept the car in the middle of the road to keep the BMW from overtaking them. A bump against the rear of their car told Harry what the BMW's driver thought of that. They wouldn't make it to the side street like this. More important, changing streets would hardly shake the BMW. They needed a distraction.

"What are you doing?!" Severus shouted as Harry unfastened his seatbelt and stuck his head out of the window. He didn't bother to answer. He'd have a clear shot, he found, ducked back inside and grabbed his wand.

"Keep your eyes on the road only," Harry instructed, before leaning wide out the window again and concentrating as hard as he could on the biggest ball of light he could imagine. He pressed his eyes shut as a beam of searing bright light shot from his wand towards the BMW. Tires screeched and he heard angry, pain-filled shouts. Then Severus' hand grabbed the back of Harry's shirt and pulled him back inside. He felt more than he saw Severus turn left into another street. As the flecks of light cleared from his vision, a look behind them proved to Harry that they were alone again.

 

******

 

"You know what?" Harry said and rubbed his eyes that were still burning a little. He hoped David's hurt like a bitch. Severus gave him a brief look before splashing his face in the petrol station's bathroom sink. "I have had enough of forests for a lifetime. Whatever we do, don't _ever_ make me go into a forest again."

Severus raised his eyebrows, drying his face with thin tissues. Harry took it as agreement. Still, he elaborated while raising a finger for each argument: "First the Forbidden Forest. I met Voldemort there in my first year, did you know? He was still attached to Quirrell's head back then and drank unicorn blood." Severus looked slightly surprised, but said nothing. "Then, of course, the Forest of Dean. Not only did I nearly drown there, but the bloody Snatchers also got us and brought us to Malfoy Manor. And besides, camping in the woods for months really and honestly sucks balls." Severus snorted, dabbed his face one last time and threw the tissues away. "Then the sodding Forbidden Forest again. I died, I went to the afterlife version of Kings Cross, I lived again. This wonderful event was followed by the thunderstorm expedition a couple of days ago. And finally we are back to the present with today's ambush."

Severus inclined his head. "You really are unlucky with forests." Harry nodded, slowly, tiredly. His eyes were burning with exhaustion and he just... he just wanted this whole thing to be over. His throat felt tight all of a sudden and he really, really didn't want to look stupid in front of Severus, so he put his head against Severus' chest. Hearing Severus' heart beat – quicker and quicker now – was comforting. Reassuring. And then – finally – Severus put his arms around him and hugged him close.

 

******

 

"Brewing," Severus explained as they stood in front of an old gas cooker, "takes more than a fire and a cauldron. Brewing draws on the magical core of the potion master, which means that once I start you really should not disturb me, Potter." Again, Harry ignored the use of his last name. Severus used it as a warning, after all, and Harry knew exactly what he meant, even though he really bristled at the implications. If he really tried, he could be patient and quiet. Even when not asleep. "The situation is too delicate to allow me to break my concentration, especially with a new and dangerous potion like this. If I get interrupted the whole cauldron might very well just explode."

"I get it. I'll be nice and quiet."

"And you will watch out for other kind of disturbances."

Harry nodded dutifully. He had his trusty candlestick that he could swing, after all.

Carefully, Severus laid out the ingredients for the potion. Moonstone, Doxy teeth, Bundimun secretion, verbena, mugwort, chamomile, the powdered Graphorn horn and Murtlap. Harry watched as Severus lit the little gas cooker and put the cauldron on top. He stayed until Severus had set the temperature and nodded with satisfaction, then Harry moved backwards towards a log on which he had put an old garden pillow (nicked from the same garden garbage they had found the cooker in). Candlestick now firmly in hand, Harry settled down to wait.

 

******

 

Harry jerked awake after several hours. He hadn't really noticed that he had fallen asleep – had really not intended to do so, but watching Severus had a very calming effect. Severus' back was still facing him and it looked like he wasn't doing anything but stare at the pot. But Harry knew better than to ask and so he waited for Severus to move or say something.

It came in form of a stretch two minutes later and a groan as Severus' back popped back into place. As he stepped away from the pot – the flame beneath it had been extinguished – Harry knew he could speak again: "Sounds like you're not cut out for field-brewing any longer."

"I do prefer my own laboratory, thank you very much."

"Next time we have a world-wide crisis, we can make sure to stay within reach of your lab. Or we could get one of these Muggle caravan thingies that Uncle Vernon always talked about and transform it into a proper mobile lab."

Severus ignored him and eyed the potion instead. "That I managed to complete the potion without accidents and with the intended outcome speaks for my abilities, naturally."

"You sound like Malfoy."

"I do not. Draco would have added a line about how his hair still looks fabulous despite hanging over a crooked pot for hours."

Harry crossed the distance between them, pushed his hands into Severus' hair – which was a little stringy, perhaps, but Harry doubted he looked any better – before pulling Severus down into a kiss. Severus' ability to kiss Harry in a way that made his knees weak and his insides tingle was unprecedented and should be praised louder than any of Severus' potion skills. "So the potion is ready?"

Severus nodded. "It's ready." He stole another kiss from Harry, making Harry completely giddy with the thought that Severus was the one initiating contact, that he wanted him just as much, and gave him a quick squeeze before turning back to the potion. "We will need to use it soon, though. Without the proper rooms to store an important potion like this, I cannot guarantee its shelf life."

Harry exhaled slowly. "Well," he said and immediately felt at a loss for words. They had known, of course, that every day counted. Had felt it, really, and had known the ritual would have to be done as soon as possible. But to have an actual deadline – as fuzzy as it was – was more than just daunting. "Then we better get going."

"I would like a couple of hours of sleep before we save the world," Severus said as he poured the potion into the little glass the Graphorn horn had come in. "But preferably further away from here."

"We need go up north anyway, right? You said the ritual was best done on those Sidlaws."

"Yes, exactly. The Sidlaws are a range of hills of volcanic origin, meaning they are not only high and vast enough to give us the edge of the air element –"

"And fire because of the volcano stuff and earth because of… well. The hills."

"Yes. But there are also enough streams to incorporate water, too. Besides," Severus cleared his throat and put up his best professor-face (Harry was sure he was doing it involuntarily), "The syllable 'sid' in Sidlaws comes from the Scottish Gaelic word 'sidhe', which means fairy and sacred."

Harry nodded slowly. "Sounds like we have the right place."

"Yes. You can drive about half the way, possibly with some detours. We'll just spend the rest of the night in the car again."

Harry raised his arms in a fake cheer and added an unenthusiastic "Yay." Hopefully, they'd soon be able to sleep in a bed. With pillows. And fuck in a bed.

 

******

 

When Harry woke up from uncomfortable sleep inside the car – this time with the seat tilted back, though that changed little about the fact that he was still not sleeping in a proper bed – Severus was gone. Not too worried, Harry stretched until he heard his back pop and got out of the car. As he moved to the nearest bush to relieve himself, he tried to work the kinks out of his shoulder, but was unsuccessful. Maybe he should take up Luna's offer of hooking him up with her massage therapist. Strictly in the non-biblical sense, of course. Or he could try to convince Severus to give him a massage. Maybe in exchange for a blowjob. It sounded like a win-win situation.

Yawning, Harry made his way back to the car to look for some leftover muesli bars when he spotted Severus sitting on a boulder a good thirty feet away from the car. Harry walked over and slowed his speed when he spotted the wand in Severus' hand. At first Harry thought Severus was merely staring at it, but then he saw the tiniest of sparks fly from the wand's tip.

He kicked up a couple of pebbles on purpose so he wouldn't scare Severus by sneaking up on him; old spy-reflexes died hard, after all.

"I heard you miles away, Potter," Severus greeted him and Harry smiled before tugging on Severus' hair to make him tilt his head back to allow Harry a good-morning kiss.

"You're casting." Not a question.

Severus shrugged. "You were right about having to use magic during the ritual. I thought it best to attempt something now instead of having to do it last minute."

Harry's smile broadened into a grin. "Did you just say I was right?"

"Do you want me to try out my casting skills on you?" Harry held up his hands in surrender. "I still think you should be the one to perform the ritual. Your magical abilities –"

"Would you stop with that?"

Severus got and brushed some dirt from his trousers. He frowned again at his Muggle attire – his constant complaints about the lack of legroom made his dislike of trousers more than obvious – before he concentrated on Harry again. "Why should I deny it? And come to it, why should you? You have astounding magical powers, as painful as it is to admit, and therefore you are the one who is best suited to perform the ritual."

"I know," Harry said quietly and rubbed his neck, then mussed his hair up. "I just…"

"Yes, I know." Severus pressed a quick kiss on top of Harry's head and then went back to the car as if he had not just displayed a clear sign of affection. Harry's scalp, though, tingled. The feeling gave him hope.

He looked up at the sky – clouds; no doubt the radio would forecast another downpour – and sighed. "Well, let's go and do this."

Severus scoffed. "More festive words have never been spoken before performing a ritual to bring magic back in its usual patterns."

 

******

 

They drove as far as they could, up the A94 from Perth and further on, over streets that didn't really deserve the name, until there was no one around. Up here, deep in the Sidlaws, it seemed like they were the only ones on Earth. Harry hoped it would stay that way. They parked the car on a patch of green, shouldered everything they might need for the ritual and started hiking, looking for the right place.

Two hours later, Severus stopped and turned around, surveying the area.

"Is this it?"

Severus nodded. "Yes." For a moment both of them stood in silence, each hanging onto their own thoughts and fears. Then Harry put down his backpack, rolled his shoulders and started in on burning the ritualistic lines into the ground. He'd memorised each line, where it crossed others, where it turned, but nevertheless he clung to the drawing that Ron and Hermione had sent them and rechecked every line.

Severus stood next to what was becoming the symbol for the ritual and checked his notes again. Then he turned and started a little fire, holding his wand near the flames, but never letting them touch it, never casting a spell. This was all it took for a miniature explosion, barely more than some flying sparks, to occur and a salamander to appear in the middle of the fire. "All right, once you're finished with this symbol we need to align the elements, then pour the potion over those, before pouring the potion over the lines that you have just burnt into the ground. Then, and only then, you can get ready to cast the actual spell. But first you need to wet your lips with a potion as well."

"Tell me again why I'm the better choice to cast a spell. I have no clue about rituals."

"Yes, but we know that your magic works and that you can control it to a certain degree."

"You already practised casting again."

"Briefly. And I am nowhere as good as –"

"If you would try again to cast a spell you would see that you have the same amount of control."

"Let's not start this argument again."

Harry wiped the back of his hand over his brow. "You're right. I'll do the casting and you will do the pouring."

It took a couple of minutes more and until the symbol was ready. Harry straightened out then and bent backwards to make his back pop. "After this, I'm going on holiday." Severus snorted at that, but said nothing. "Oh, come on, you're as bad as I am." Harry grinned, forgetting momentarily what they were about to do, and what they were risking.

Then suddenly, Harry saw four figures at the horizon. Wind tore at their clothes, but Harry could see that one distinctly looked like David. But they couldn't risk stopping now. They had to go with it. Harry saw David tell the three others where to go, but David stayed where he was. Harry looked away and concentrated back on the ritual again. They had time. Not much, but at least some.

"Everything all right?" Severus asked without looking away from the sheets of paper in his hand.

"Yes," Harry said and hoped that it didn't sound like he was lying. He all but ran to his backpack to get the potion, then ran back up to the symbol on the ground. "Where do you need this?"

"Wait," Severus said. "Not yet."

He didn't know what it was that made him look to the right, but he did and he spotted the large, brutish guy that reminded him of Ian. Before he could even think of fight or flight, Harry spotted another guy just behind him. There was no wand in his hand, but Harry could see the air flitter and sizzle around his hands. He ducked as the first spell came racing towards them. He had to get away from Severus in order to keep him from becoming a target.

The brutish guy came nearer and Harry had to think of something quick. He was physically inferior to that guy. And if push came to shove he would lose in the first fight against him. He saw the spell-caster raise his hand again and quickly ran in front of the brute. He didn't know what spell had been cast and didn't care. He just ducked before it came, but not before the brute had smacked his fist into Harry's face. Just milliseconds afterwards the spell punched the brute in the stomach and made him double over. One down, three to go. Harry didn't check to see if he was still breathing. Instead, Harry ran for the spell-caster. He raised his wand. There was no room for doubt. Harry felt the magical energy race through his body, into his hands and out of his fingertips. The spell-caster dove to the side and barely avoided Harry's spell, before he countered with something red and nasty looking. Instinctively, Harry held out his hands and shouted "Protego!" Whatever it had been, it vanished into the ether.

"I will never get how you defeated the Dark Lord! Rot in hell, Potter, you half-blood scum!" the spell-caster shouted and launched another attack at Harry.

There was no wand he could knock out of the spell-caster's hand. But he could hit him with a good concussion spell. Picturing all the concussions he had had and that he had treated in the hospital, Harry focused his energy on the spell-caster and watched how the spell pummelled towards him. Movement at the corner of his eye made Harry turn his head away from the spell-caster. He saw David going for Severus. If he would reach him, he might not only stop the ritual and keep them from ever changing magic back to the way it had been before, but he would also hurt Severus and Harry couldn't let that happen. Harry started running.

David had nearly reached Severus, as Harry threw himself on David. "Leave him alone, you maggot!" He raised his fist to slam into David's face, but only hit the ground as David quickly rolled away.

"Is that all you've got?!"

"I'm just getting started!" Harry started running again then braked to a sudden halt as David trained his wand at Harry.

"Don't think I wouldn't use it." David's voice was deadly calm and Harry believed him, but it didn't change a thing. A look behind him told him that Severus was not yet ready for the ritual and distraction wasn't an option. Harry licked his lips and swallowed quickly. His eyes fell on the candlestick just at the same time that David looked at it. He remembered how desperately David had wanted it. This was not an ordinary candleholder. David's interest – his obsession with it – was far too big for it to be normal. Harry more felt than heard or saw David start a spell as he started running. He threw himself on the ground at the same time as he grabbed the candlestick and threw it as hard and as far as he could. The spell on David's lips died as he ran to catch the candlestick.

There was no time to waste, Harry knew, and so he pushed back the thought of David and what had just happened and turned back to Severus. "Are you all right?"

Severus put the salamander on the fire side of the symbol. "Yes. The ritual is ready."

So this was it. What they had been working towards, what they put their hopes in. Without Severus having to say it, Harry knew that this was their only shot at this. Chances to right magic again didn't come in threefold. Stuff like this, as important as it was, usually just came to you as a once-in-a-lifetime chance. He exhaled shakily, then nodded. "What do you need?"

Before Severus could answer, a weird roaring sound made Harry look towards the hill and it was then that he saw fire rolling towards them. "Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck!"

"What is it?"

"You have got to do the ritual," Harry said in a clipped voice. The expletive following this told him that Severus had not only realised that he had to cast a spell on his own, but that he had also seen the fire. "Are you okay with this?"

"Shut up, Potter, and take care of those bloody flames!" Harry could hear Severus voice trembling, but he had already turned around to fight against the fiery tongues rolling towards them. They had no choice. He ducked as he felt a spell whiz at him from behind, rolled towards the left and saw a pillar of fire right in front of him and Severus. He shouted " _Aguamenti_!" at the top of his voice and water surged from his wand, extinguishing the flames.

Behind it, the last goon appeared – tall and lanky, wand at the ready – and Harry reacted instinctively with a non-verbal Expelliarmus. The lanky guy's wand flew towards the flames and he, with wide eyes and a scream breaking from his lips, turned and ran.

When Harry returned to Severus, the symbol had started glowing along with the elements they had laid out and Severus' potion-coated lips. The string of Latin words that came from Severus was unintelligible to Harry, but the words flowed over Harry, through him, and filled the air. Not knowing what else to do, Harry closed his eyes, focussed all his thoughts and his attention on Severus in the hope some of his energy would flow over to Severus and strengthen the ritual.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw David, standing again, candlestick in hand and wand trained at Harry. Slowly he moved in front of Severus, but he didn't dare to grasp his own wand. David had already proven that he was not above casting. Maybe if Harry cast a Protego? No. Too dangerous. What he understood about ritual magic so far was not enough to exclude the possibility of a spell in direct vicinity of the ritual influencing its outcome.

"Stop the ritual!" David cried. Severus kept on chanting despite the interruption.

"Why? What advantage could you possibly have from magic being this fucked up?!" Slowly, Harry edged forward. Towards David and further away from Severus.

David grinned and gripped his wand tighter. "Nobody can stop me from getting back what is mine, for one." Like lightning shooting through his brain, Harry remembered Carol Macpherson and her Imperius-induced loyalty to David. He remembered Draco's letter saying David held a grudge.

"Is that why you had these clowns working for you? So you could get back what you had once stolen from others?!"

"They had their own reasons!" David snarled. Sparks shot out from his wand and Harry quickly held up his hands to placate David.

"People died because you changed magic back to its ancient form."

"Do I look like I care?!" He did not. "It was Thomas who fucked that ritual up. It was not supposed to affect us and it was not supposed to last that long." David looked behind Harry, where the spell-caster had fallen. He didn't know whether to be reassured that magic's current state was an accident or not. It did make magic sound even more unpredictable than before – it was not really a good starting position for the ritual Severus was performing, though. The one that he needed more time for – Harry had to keep distracting David.

"But you can cast!"

David's grin got meaner. "Damn right I can." Sparks flew again. Maybe it hadn't been the best idea to tell David that. "Seems Thomas didn't fuck everything up too badly."

"So what more do you want?! You already got the candlestick! "

"The candlestick is only the key. A Portkey, to be exact, and once I'm done here I can go and collect what the Aurors never found." Harry finally comprehended why David had been after that stupid candlestick all this time. Why he had committed all of his crimes. Fucking greed and thirst for revenge. What a fucktard. "As for what I want? I want for you to die, you little son of a bitch!"

Something inside Harry twitched at that. Something deep and ugly that really wanted to rip David into shreds. Only he didn't. He heard Severus start in on the last verse of the incantation. He needed to give him more time. "What does it matter to you? You got what you wanted! Now let us turn magic back into normal so people stop getting hurt!"

"Oh, no. As soon as you do that you'll send the bloody Aurors after me. I stop you and I'll live like a king amongst Muggles and wizards alike. And this," David pointed back to where the brute from earlier was lying, "will have been nothing but a minor setback."

"Do you really think we would let you do any of that?!" Harry cried. "This ends. Now."

"You don't have a choice." David gripped his wand tighter. "Cruc-"

" – _Libertas perpetua_!" The finals words of the ritual resounded over the Sidlaws. They had barely died away when the air around them exploded and threw them to the ground. Harry was thrown backwards as David's spell was shredded in the air, torn to nothing and David was whirled against a nearby boulder.

"Severus!" Harry yelled as he fought his way away from the thorn bush that had cushioned his fall and had protected his head from further injury. He ran towards the spot where he'd burned the symbol into the ground – the symbol that was now gone – and looked around in panic. When he spotted Severus lying several feet away, he raced to him and threw himself on the ground next to him. "Severus!"

Severus cracked one eye open. "Did it work?"

Harry licked his lips and tried not to despair at the blood that was seeping from Severus' head and arms, from his stomach. If magic was back to normal, if… He fumbled for his wand and shakily thought about a ball of light. Nothing happened. He cleared his throat. "Lumos." A ball of light appeared at the tip of his wand – a normal, welcome ball of light. "Yes," he all but whispered. "It worked." And then he set out to heal Severus.

 

******

 

Diagon Alley looked different now. The rubble was gone, as were most holes from the walls. But the damage hadn't been repaired completely. David had been apprehended as soon as Harry had called the Aurors. But that had been _after_ he had healed Severus and stabilised David, who had been injured critically. The rest of his gang had been caught, too. All of them had still been in the Sidlaws, though only one had actually fled the scene. They had later confessed what had driven them to help David – be it revenge for perceived or actual injustices, promise of money, and settlement of a debt or even lust for mayhem. Their motives seemed crassly trivial compared to what they had done. And now they would have to answer for all the deaths and injuries their actions had caused.

The economy was just coming back on its feet and stores were in between having only the bare essentials and carrying their full range again. The previous week, Harry had seen the first children back on the streets again. Life was slowly returning back to normal.

St. Mungo's was even busier than it had been before. Long-time effects of the use of ancient magic could be found in some people and others had been hurt so badly that they still needed constant care. But they were getting there.

The bell to Severus' shop rang as Harry pushed through the door. He waited until Severus was done with his customer, then held up the usual bag of pastries. Severus inclined his head and nodded at the back room as he spelled the shop door closed.

"Hi," Harry said as he put the bag down on the table, where a pot of tea was already waiting.

"Hi yourself," Severus said, pulled Harry close and kissed him. "The tea is under a Warming Charm."

Harry grinned and squeezed Severus' bum, making Severus eyes first turn big, then dark. "Good, I –" he started to say, but Severus was already kissing him again and pulling him upstairs and towards the bedroom.

 

-The End-

  
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**Author's Note:**

> This piece received an art illustration by the wonderful [](http://andreanna.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://andreanna.livejournal.com/)**andreanna**!
> 
> To see it (and it's SO WORTH IT!!!), please go [here](http://snape-potter.dreamwidth.org/309074.html). (It's the original entry on Dreamwidth.)  
>  **Art Rating:** NC-17 (NWS)  
> 


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